Here Without You
by Dasque
Summary: Five years after the defeat of the Archdemon, Alistair and Elissa are brought together by a common threat, and must try to know each other again in the roles of their new lives.
1. Prelude

_**A/N**_**: **_ This story has now undergone a total rewrite it to correct inconsistencies after two prequel stories sprang up from it; _Shades of Grey_ and _Time After Time_, which can both be found on my profile. I'm in the process right now of getting all these chapters uploaded and posted... it might take me a day or two, so I apologize if you're reading and it suddenly shifts in the middle. A couple of additional scenes have been added, as well.  
_

_Also, this story was originally written before Awakenings (at least before I had played it), so it's now officially AU. Any references to the Awakenings cast were added in the rewrite._

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**Here Without You**

**Prelude**

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"_How is this to end?"_

"_As stories must when love is denied;_

_With tears—and a journey."_

_~ Shakespeare in Love_

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Being king made it hard to _sleep_.

Alistair had been exhausted for the past three days. But every night, as he retired to his rooms, a million concerns would flood his mind, driving away sleep until the early hours of the morning, when finally his brain refused to do anymore and mercifully stopped working. Yet, it would begin again with the dawn, drawing him from slumber with nagging reminders of all he had to do, whining that he had no business lounging around. For a few moments, he would argue with himself, until finally the prodding caused him to sit up with a sigh and throw the blankets back, resigned to face another day.

Being King also apparently made his own brain an enemy. A nagging, whining enemy.

The light was barely present on this morning, and the chill of the night still seeped from the stone walls of his chamber and created an atmosphere of gloom that the grey, overcast skies outside the window did nothing to dispel. It was fitting, he thought tiredly as he crawled out of bed and slipped into the shirt he had carelessly tossed aside the night before. The bright sun and white, fluffy clouds that had presided over his coronation were a mockery—_this _weather suited his mood far better.

Yawning, he stepped out onto the balcony and looked down at the enormous city that he, somehow, was expected to rule over. It wasn't even worth thinking about the lands _beyond _the city gates—no, that would only bring about a round of hysteria and, frankly, he was too tired to indulge in one. If he was going to be reduced to incoherent rambling, he at least wanted to be well rested to see it done properly.

The air was damp and smelled of rain. He leaned down and crossed his arms on the rail, breathing in the subtle, clean smell. It calmed him somewhat, and allowed him, for a few seconds, to forget his fear and rising bitterness—to remind himself that they had done what needed doing. The Blight had been stopped, and the nation united under a single ruler. He had good reason to be pleased with the outcome, this apparently happy ending paid for by their blood, sweat, and tears.

Maybe one day he would be.

He opened his eyes slowly, and the movement of a lone figure in the yard caught his attention. His heart leapt in his chest when he saw the mass of ebony waves that fell to the center of her back. He had only seen Elissa once since the final battle—a confrontation that had them saying and doing things he would rather forget. He had never imagined, until now, that they could hurt each other that way. The rest of the time, he had been reduced to seeing her from a distance, surrounded by crowds of friends and admirers.

She no longer wore the heavy dresses she had been donning for the celebrations, and instead had switched back into clothing more suited for her—loose fitting trousers and a plain linen shirt that looked a few sizes too big. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile as he watched her lead her horse from the stable with her hound Aiden trotting along at her side.

With dawning dread, he realized that the horse was carrying gear, and that Elissa was strapping a bedroll to the back of her saddle, idly kicking at the dog as he got underfoot.

She was leaving.

She wasn't even planning to say goodbye to him. The pain that seemed to lurk behind the fringes of everything these days rose up and stabbed him. For a moment, he had to grip the rail of the balcony to keep from running down to her and demanding to know what she thought she was doing.

Such a short time ago, it wouldn't have mattered. Back in that other life, when Alistair had been a simple Grey Warden in the throes of his first love, he would have given into impulse and chased after her. He would have followed her and begged her not to leave him.

The king didn't have such liberties. He couldn't ask her to stay—to continue on as though nothing had happened between them. She deserved more than that.

Elissa had agreed with his decision, as he knew she would. She was the daughter of a noble, raised to understand the intrigues and sacrifices required for that position. She certainly understood them better than he did. She had known, since the first suggestion that he be made king, it would be nearly impossible for them to stay together. He simply hadn't wanted to listen.

Yet, he had heard her, on the night he returned from Morrigan's room. He had almost gone to her, his natural instinct carrying him to his longtime source of comfort despite the warnings in his head that said he was only going to make it harder for both of them. The sounds coming through the door had stopped him. His chest had tightened with a now-familiar ache as she wept, her heartbreak escaping her in broken, strangled gasps. The sound was made all the more heart-wrenching because of the effort she put into keeping quiet, choking back on her despair so as not to alert anyone else to this moment of weakness.

For a breath, he had paused with his hand on the door latch, almost taking that step inside to retract everything he had said to her. His will had never been tested as it was at that moment, ever fiber of his being screaming to go and wrap his arms around her and spend the rest of his life trying to heal the pain he had caused her.

He hadn't, though. Coward that he was, he had left her to her misery, and returned to his own bed to wallow in his own.

Elissa was pacing impatiently in the yard now, apparently eager to be gone. She glanced repeatedly at the stables. Alistair wondered what was keeping her there, when suddenly another rider appeared, this one blond, and draped in a forest-green cloak.

Alistair's fingers clenched, grasping the rail so tightly his knuckles went white. She couldn't be serious. Elissa couldn't be leaving him for… for…

He sighed and loosened his grip. He had given up all rights to be jealous of Zevran. That's what he told himself, but at the sight of the assassin, his muscles knotted, and a block of ice slid through his chest and settled in his gut.

Was she going to replace him so soon?

Elissa looked up at the castle, then, and Alistair froze, sure she could see him watching her. She stopped in her tracks, and he could imagine her cornflower blue eyes widen in surprise at the sight of him. For a long time, they just stared at each other, each realizing that this, more than anything, confirmed the end of their time together. Alistair swallowed around the knot in his throat and shook himself. He wasn't going to let her go thinking he wouldn't miss her. Even if she couldn't see him clearly, he cautiously raised a single hand in farewell.

After a moment, she returned the gesture. It was small, subdued, her hand going no higher than her chin before her fingers slowly curled into a fist and dropped to her side, but he saw it all the same.

Zevran glanced over his shoulder to see what had caught her attention. The blond head leaned in closer to whisper something to her. With a determined nod, she turned her back on Alistair and mounted her horse, whistling for her dog. The sound carried clearly in the crisp, still silence.

She didn't look at him again.

He watched as the two riders galloped out of Denerim, chasing the rising sun on the horizon, and he released a shaking breath. Slowly, he turned and went back through the double doors to his dimly lit chambers, wondering if his heart would ever again cease to feel as heavy as a chunk of lead in his chest.


	2. As You Were

**Chapter One**

**As You Were**

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_Friendship often ends in love;_

_But love in friendship? Never._

_~Charles Caleb Colton_

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**Five Years Later…**

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Alistair groaned at the sound of someone pounding at his door. He tried to ignore it, reaching one arm behind him to grope blindly for a pillow. Finding one, he dropped it over his head and tried to go back to sleep. The knocking persisted with more force, the sound vibrating through his head and neck, and with a sigh of exasperation he barked out a harsh, "_What_?"

The effect was rather ruined by it being muffled, absorbed by the pillow and the mattress he was all but face planted in.

The chamber door opened, and soft-soled shoes and the rustle of robes alerted him to the identity of his guest. "Good morning, Your Majesty," came a familiar voice, followed by the slide of the drapes being drawn back. Alistair silently cursed the mage. He didn't really have a good reason, except that his head was pounding and his stomach was turning and she was there, sounding chipper and wide awake, and so that made her the most wicked woman in the world.

He tentatively peeked open one eye, and light stabbed the back of it with ruthless accuracy. With another groan, he pulled the pillow back down and turned his head away. Wynne was undeterred, setting a tray of food down on the table across from him. "Are you feeling quite well, Your Majesty?" she asked, _almost _sounding like she was actually concerned.

_Wicked _to the _core_. He wasn't about to admit to being hungover, or she'd forced one of those suspicious, green-tinged formulas down his throat. He theorized that they were, in reality, nothing more than a combination of the vilest herbs she could imagine—just short of poisoning him, anyway. However, if he didn't admit it, she'd make him get up.

The outcome of either was likely to be the same.

"Go away," he grumbled, and was unsurprised when she ignored this suggestion.

"I've already been in to see Teyrn Cousland this morning." He could hear the sound of the chair scraping across the floor as she settled herself at the table. "He was feeling a bit under the weather himself."

"Good. I hope the bastard's dying."

Wynne chuckled to herself. The scent of food drifting from the table made his stomach lurch uncomfortably. He pulled the blankets over his head for good measure.

"Really, Alistair—it isn't as if he were the one pouring obscene amounts of alcohol down your throat the night before you were to leave for Redcliffe."

He winced. Sometime between the arrival of Fergus and the mead, the scheduled journey to Redcliffe had completely slipped his mind. The thought of spending the entire day on horseback was _not _appealing. "He said he could out drink me."

"Well, as long as it was for a good cause. I also came to remind you that Arl Royce arrived late last night, and in the company of his daughter. Just in case you were considering a postponement of your trip, I mean."

Alistair forced open bleary eyes and craned his neck to glare at the mage, who was unaffected by the look, serenely eating her breakfast. It seemed more than a little unfair that she should be immune to his ill temper, when _her _evil eye could make him feel like he was ten years old and promptly draw an apology from him—even when he wasn't quite sure what he had done wrong. "Do you think you could wait for me to get dressed before taking such delight in ruining my day?"

Wynne laughed again, but she stood up and collected her tray. "You seem more than capable of doing that on your own, Your Majesty. I'll just be out here, then."

Alistair rolled onto his back and stretched, rubbing his gummy eyes. Wynne had taken some pity on him, at least. The morning was well underway, sunlight streaming in through the windows to pool on the rich Orlesian rugs that decorated the floor. He forced himself out of bed and staggered over to the basin in the corner of the room. After a moment of thought, he plunged his head fully into the cold water, half hoping he would drown and be rid of this headache. He came up with a gasp a few seconds later, running both hands through his dripping hair. There. At least now he felt a _bit_ less like an old, wrung out rag.

With his head marginally clearer, he dressed quickly, knowing the earlier he could manage to get on the road, the less likely he was someone could track him down and delay him. Spring had arrived in full, and after a bitter winter, Alistair had been eagerly looking forward to the roads drying out so that he could leave the confines of the castle.

Or at least he _had _been, before Fergus Cousland tried to _kill _him.

Fergus had become something of a friend over the years, despite the initial discomfort between the two of them. He was one of the few men of power that had proven he could be trusted, and Alistair genuinely enjoyed his visits to Denerim. The teyrn was friendly and intelligent, not unlike his sister, and had proven invaluable in his knowledge of courtly expectations while the new king adjusted to his sudden elevation in rank during the first awkward years of his rule. If they happened to share a mild streak of immaturity at times, well—that only made his company that much more agreeable.

It had taken a year of fencing and gauging reactions before Fergus would openly speak of Elissa in Alistair's presence. It didn't take him long to realize the young king was eager for any news. Alistair and Elissa had certainly been in contact since the morning she had slipped away. It was impossible for them not to be, given who they were, but any message that found its way from Amaranthine was carefully formal, outlining the progress of rebuilding the Wardens of Ferelden without mentioning anything of a personal nature.

In the beginning, Alistair had been torn between relief and frustration, half hoping that she would write to him, but conversely grateful that she was allowing him time to step back and really consider their situation. He had begun to suspect he had made a dreadful mistake in letting her get away, but also knew running after her without thinking would only make everything worse. He was quite sure he had done enough damage as it was, and he had no intention of hurting her further.

When a message finally came, nearly six months after the fight with the archdemon, that was not stamped with the seal of the Grey Wardens, it wasn't even addressed to him, but to Wynne. Elissa pleaded with the healer to come to Vigil's Keep right away for a personal favor, but had failed to state the nature of the request. Wynne had departed without delay, promising to send word immediately if the girl was in any danger.

She had returned only a fortnight later, somber and looking much older as she broke the news to Alistair. Elissa had been keeping company with one of the new recruits, and she was with child.

There was nothing left for him to do after that except to throw himself into his new role and forcibly put everything else behind him. The death knell of his involvement with Elissa had delighted Eamon, who saw the rising likelihood for the young man to become the king they needed. The fact that Alistair had been more than a little _bitter _at first didn't seem to faze him at all.

He had allowed Eamon to push him into meeting some of the more eligible daughters of the realm. Alistair had gone into it willingly enough, determinedly burying the thought that Elissa would have been the most likely candidate to share his throne had she not been a Grey Warden. There was even a time when it looked as though he would be married to the daughter of a particularly rich arl in the west. He had certainly liked Allison enough, but the prospect didn't last. After finding out that she had been heavily involved with another man but forced to break it off because of his lesser rank, he had forbidden Arl Eamon to make the necessary arrangements, for his own sake as well as hers. The one thing that he insisted on—that he still insisted on—was that his marriage stood a chance of being a remotely happy one.

It was not long after that the proposals started. Alistair was initially shocked by the number of "proper" young noble women willing to warm his bed in hopes of providing him with an heir. The worst part was knowing that his advisors were disappointed that he wasn't taking them up on the offers. As time went on and his longing for Elissa gradually faded and died away, it was getting more difficult to turn them down, too. But Alistair was no longer the naïve Warden fresh from the Chantry. He wasn't about to fall into the trap of raising another man's child because a woman in a compromised position had managed to slip between his sheets before her indiscretion was known. He had given up everything he ever wanted for the sake of his blood; he damn well wasn't going to risk the end of the line now.

Despite it all, Alistair was still Alistair, and the thought of bedding anyone because they wanted to take a gamble at the throne just… _rankled_. Some of them were so blatant about it they could teach the workers at the Pearl a trick or two. Arl Royce's daughter, Lyra, was the worst of a bad lot, driven by her ambitious father to use whatever weapons she had in her considerable arsenal to land him. The reminder that she was at court was enough to keep him motivated to get out of there.

He stumbled out of his bedchamber a few moments later, presentable if not exactly fully coherent. He sank down in a chair across from Wynne and folded his arms on the table, dropping his head into them with a groan in a transparent attempt to gain her sympathy. The familiar feel of healing magic tingling along his spine startled him enough to make him jerk up in his seat.

That had never actually _worked _before.

"I guess I'm feeling sorrier for you than usual," she said in response to his raised eyebrow.

Alistair stretched his arms over his head with a grin, relieved to be rid of his hangover. "See? I knew you loved me deep down inside somewhere." He eyed the food she had brought up for him and decided he was starving.

"Or it could be that Captain Maryn has had your escort assembled and ready to go since dawn." He cringed a little. "He thinks the roads have dried out enough that we can reach Redcliffe in a fortnight."

Alistair shook his head. "We're stopping in Amaranthine first."

Wynne didn't look surprised. "Are you sure that's wise?"

He rolled is eyes at her. "It's been five years." At her knowing look, he smiled and shrugged. "No, I'm not sure. But we're going, anyway."

"I thought we might, after seeing you get so thoroughly inebriated last night."

"You didn't think I was going to let myself get shown up by a Cousland, did you?"

"You were well into your cups _before _that challenge was issued," Wynne scolded. "I believe it began around the time the teyrn informed you that Jaedan was killed last autumn."

Alistair winced internally at her sharpened tone. There were times when having an extremely observant person who tended to worry about you wasn't as pleasant as it sounded on paper. He idly pushed his food around on his plate with his fork, thinking. "I just want to make sure she's all right," he said, and since he meant it, Wynne's stern gaze softened somewhat. "It kills me to think of Elissa being left alone with her little boy. It can't be that unusual for me to check on her. She _is _my friend, after all."

Wynne frowned. "I was under the impression you didn't say much to each other outside of the Order."

Alistair scowled down at his plate, briefly resembling a sulky child. "That's irrelevant."

She laughed. "I knew you would do it, anyway." She pressed a finger to her lips and looked thoughtful as she considered something. "But I do wonder if Fergus put off telling you just because he knew you would go rushing off to Amaranthine when you found out."

"My guess is he didn't know before now," Alistair said with a small frown. "I can speak from personal experience on that much. Elissa is a _terrible _correspondent."

…

Vigil's Keep loomed in the distance, dark and foreboding in the fading light. Alistair welcomed the tug in his chest that signaled others who carried the Taint were near, a sensation he had lived without for too long. He had visited the keep once or twice, but Elissa's competent ruling of the arling made frequent visits unnecessary, much to his regret. The Grey Wardens here always looked past his crown and treated him like one of their own—with the exception of a small measure of hero worship from the newest members. He had helped to stop the Blight, after all. He sometimes had to endure questions from enthusiastic recruits wanting to know what Elissa had been like back then, which was something he didn't like to think about, but despite a few uncomfortable points, it was still one of his favorite places to be.

As the small entourage drew nearer, he could hear the guards stationed on the walls call down riders were approaching. Alistair traveled only with Wynne, Captain Maryn, a handful of servants and seven royal guards—all in all, a much smaller number than the keep was used to housing when the king paid them a visit. A group of Wardens met them at the gate with the veteran from Orlais, Tomlin.

"Your Majesty! This is a surprise." The man greeted them as warmly as someone who had been living with the Taint as long as he had was capable. "What brings you here?"

"General inspection," Alistair replied with a grin. "And, I was hoping to see Warden Commander Elissa."

Tomlin blinked in surprise. "The Warden Commander isn't here, Your Majesty. She and several others were called to Weisshaupt Fortress nearly a year ago."

Alistair struggled to hide his disappointment. "I see. Teyrn Cousland seemed to have overlooked telling me that part."

One of the younger Wardens laughed. "I doubt if he knows, Your Majesty. The commander doesn't like her brother to worry about her. I'll bet she stopped by Highever on the way and just hoped to be back before he noticed she was gone."

"That sounds like her." He sighed. He considered changing his original plan to stay for a little while and leave right at dawn instead, but he really did want to have a look around. "Have you the room to shelter me and mine for a couple of nights?"

Tomlin chuckled. "It would be a pathetic kind of fortress that couldn't house a group this size, Your Majesty. I'll just show you to your room, then."

…

The next morning dawned clear and bright, and as Alistair wandered the grounds of the keep he couldn't help but be amazed at all Elissa had accomplished here. The yard was filled with the sound of voices, every one belonging to a Grey Warden. She had recruited, bullied, and sometimes threatened until she had assembled more than a hundred of some of the finest warriors in Ferelden. Each one of them was carefully selected, ruthlessly trained, and fiercely loyal to their commander. All of them acknowledged him in some way while he, Wynne, and Captain Maryn lounged against a fence and watched the sparring matches in the yard, either by nod of recognition or stopping to chat for a moment.

"How do you think Elissa manages this troop with a son to take care of?" Wynne asked as she looked up to where Alistair was perched on the fence.

He shrugged. "There are several children here, Wynne. A good number of her recruits were married men looking for a warband to take them in, and the Grey Wardens have never sounded as appealing as they have since we stopped the Blight."

"But the danger—"

"Would mean very little to men who'd lost everything."

Captain Maryn nodded. "Being taken into a warband means shelter, maintenance for you and your family, and education for your children. I doubt if the Warden Commander had to twist anyone's arm when she went recruiting. It would be a sight better than trying to survive on a ravaged farm."

"Well, there might have been a _bit _of arm twisting," Alistair said with a quick smile. "She has a couple of Templars here. I doubt she pried them out of the Chantry without at least a little bullying."

Just then, a shout of cheers went up in front of them, and their attention was drawn to the sight of a man helping one of his fellows to his feet while the surrounding crowd argued and settled wagers. Alistair caught the attention of a Warden standing near them. "What's that about?"

"That's Darren. He's Lieutenant Commander Aeryc's nephew. We have yet to see him bested on this field."

Alistair looked at the Warden again with a bit more interest. "He's that good, is he?"

"He is, Sire. Zevran took a special interest in him and trained him personally. He's insanely fast."

"A pupil of Zevran's? Well… that's a slightly horrifying thought, isn't it?"

The youth laughed. "Care to test your skill, Your Majesty? I'm sure Darren would be happy to oblige."

Captain Maryn groaned as Alistair's eyes lit up just before he hopped off the fence.

…

The evening was cool and smelled of rain, the spring twilight still clinging to the last of winter's chill before the sun would drive it away and usher in summer. Alistair made his way to the small garden at the center of the keep with only his captain for company, rolling his shoulders and wincing at the soreness there.

"You might have turned him down," Maryn said dryly, still clearly upset with his king for putting himself in unnecessary danger.

"A student of Zevran's? Not on your life." He had managed to best the young warrior and salvage his reputation as one of the heroes of the Blight, but it was a close thing. He would be feeling it for days. He had forgotten how _dirty _Zevran fought.

They reached the small plot of land that Alistair visited each time he traveled to Amaranthine. It was little more than a sheltered corner of green that boasted a fountain with a line of rosebushes flanking a cobbled path. On the ancient stone wall behind the fountain was a plaque—Alistair's real reason for visiting. It had become a kind of pilgrimage for him, to make sure he stopped and remembered, no matter how painful some of those memories might have been.

Maryn stopped a respectful distance away and allowed him to approach the spot alone. The plaque was large, and bore the names of those who had fallen in service to the Grey Wardens. He and Elissa had come up with this idea together—the only time they had allowed the wall between them to crumble, giving them the freedom to really talk. Even if duty had been the driving factor, he still remembered the way they had stayed up late into the night, the way her hand had rested on his shoulder in silent comfort as they determined the best way for the Wardens to be honored in their own fortress.

Many of the names had been there from the start, but at the end of the list the names grew lighter—freshly engraved. He studied it, looking for the ones he knew would be there. There was Duncan. He let his eyes roam over the list of names below the late commander's—names of men and brothers who had been gone for a long time now. Elissa had never known them, but he remembered a face to fit each name. With a sigh, he continued to study the list and found Riordan, the last just before the new engravings. A familiar feeling of guilt assailed him as he looked over the names of those who had given their lives.

_In death, sacrifice._

His name should have been on that list, lost to the world save for a small mark carved in his memory. It came to him at the oddest moments, the thought that he was living on borrowed time. Or, more appropriately, _stolen_ time. Before he met Elissa, he would never have believed that he would shirk in his devotion to the Order. But love had changed that forever, clouding any loyalty to the Wardens he might have felt once he was confronted with the sheer terror that something could happen to her. His guilt stemmed from a combination of knowing the others had not wavered, and even more shamefully, that he did not regret that he and Elissa lived.

The last name on the list was Jaedan.

Alistair had met the man once, as he and Zevran traveled through Denerim with a couple of Dalish recruits on their way to Amaranthine. He was everything that Alistair had dreaded he would be—good looking, quick to laugh, infinitely likable. The meeting had been brief and uncomfortable, at least for him, but had left him with some hope that Elissa was happy where she was. Instead, she had suffered another loss, this one far greater than any Alistair could credit himself with.

The implications that she had been gone for nearly a year hit him then. Jaedan would have died on foreign soil. They were too far away for his body to be sent home for burial. He would have been laid to rest at Weisshaupt, and suddenly a surge of pity for the woman he had once loved overwhelmed him. He was almost grateful she wasn't here, after all.

King or no, pity would only get him clobbered.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the cool air of the evening. Five years on the throne had taught him something about hiding his emotions, but it was rarely that he found himself alone and without scrutiny. As his thoughts began to gather in a dark storm of forgotten feelings, he wondered if being surrounded all the time wasn't preferable.

He could have been happy here. Rebuilding the Order with Elissa, living in simplicity rather than his rich apartments at the castle, training and fighting and—his mind trembled and shied—loving. He had wanted to marry her, despite the things he had said to her that day after the Landsmeet. Instead, duty had forced him to send her away, to push her towards another who could give her the life that haunted the most hidden corners of his mind. Nothing had come of that sacrifice, and Alistair decided with a hint of bitterness that if he was being honest with himself, he might as well admit that it was likely nothing ever would. He had no interest in marrying.

The true irony was that Elissa _had_ her son. Despite his talk of the importance of providing an heir and his responsibility to carry on the Theirin bloodline, he had done nothing about it outside of a blood magic ritual that he refused to acknowledge. Elissa was the one who had moved on and started over, shortly thereafter giving birth to her little boy. A boy that—and the thought was so painful and selfish that it floated quiet as a whisper even in the privacy of his own mind—should have been _his_.

"Your Majesty?" Maryn asked, hesitant to interrupt. "It's getting quite dark out here. I would feel better if you returned to the safety of the keep."

Alistair nodded, straightening up with a sigh.

"Did you wish to stay for another day?"

"No." He shook his head, banishing the dark clouds. He was no Grey Warden any longer, and he was frustrated with himself for indulging the fantasy. "No, we've lingered here long enough. We'll leave at dawn." Then he turned his back on the plaque and dark thoughts and memories of Elissa.

He had a journey to make, a wedding to attend, a kingdom to rule.

What he wanted was irrelevant.


	3. Same Time, Same Place

**Chapter Two**

_**Same Time, Same Place**_

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_There's always that one person that will always have your heart_

_You never see it coming 'cause you're blinded from the start_

_~ Usher_

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The following day proved to be unseasonably warm, and Alistair lifted his head and closed his eyes, rejoicing in the simple feel of the sun on his face and the smell of fresh earth and things that grew. Without these rare occasions when he could afford to leave Denerim and the confines of the castle, the kingship may very well have broken him within a matter of months.

He thought back to a moment that seemed like a lifetime ago, when he had asked Elissa if she could ever picture herself missing those days, back when the Blight nipped at their heels as they journeyed across the country on a mission doomed to fail. It had succeeded beyond all hope or logic. It was kind of funny, he thought now, that _he_ was the one who missed it. He missed the feel of the road beneath his feet and the weight of the heavy armor he'd worn then, missed the campfires and stories and nights filled with laughter as they tried to keep the shadows at bay. Everything had seemed so overwhelming then, but as he looked back he saw the good laced in with the bad—a time when life was freedom and friends and clear purpose. Being on the road always felt like coming home, answering a call that echoed deep within him.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself."

The memories faded and he opened his eyes and flashed a grin in Wynne's direction. "Long winter."

She smiled at him fondly, and he idly wondered if she ever missed those days, too. "You should get out more. Learn to enjoy some of the perks that come with your position. Arl Eamon is more than capable of standing as regent if you decided to travel a bit."

He laughed, but the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes. "Riiight. And then I'll get back to find Anora getting comfy in my chair and the Landsmeet howling for my blood. Pass."

Wynne shook her head. "You haven't spent all this time winning them over for nothing. They wouldn't turn on you now. You are their _king_, Alistair. I wonder sometimes if you realize that. You stopped being the untried Grey Warden some time ago. Your people trust you. The only way the Landsmeet would accept Anora now would be as your queen."

He gave an exaggerated shudder that wasn't completely feigned. "Way to test fate, Wynne."

She smiled. "You know I'm right. You would have called for her execution a long time ago instead of keeping her shut away in the Chantry if you didn't."

He shrugged. "There are several banns that would have been outraged if we had killed her. This way, she's been forgotten more than anything. And she thinks she's alive because I'm keeping her around, just in case. It worked out rather well. It keeps her from stirring up trouble without angering anyone."

Wynne gave a most unladylike snort. "As usual, you don't give yourself enough credit, and her too much. It's far more likely she's been unable to muster the support she was so confident of. You helped to stop the Blight and saw the country through to the other side, while her father put it in a position to fall. That, more than anything, has kept her reined in."

"And yet it's remarkable how often her name seems to crop up."

Wynne shrugged one shoulder, conceding that much. "They may not want her as their ruler instead of you, but it doesn't change the fact that she is the most eligible prospect to be your wi—"

"Don't say it! Maker's breath, Wynne, are you _trying_ to provoke the Powers That Be? They don't seem to like me very much, you know."

She chuckled. "Very well, Your Majesty. I'll keep my lecturing to myself. For now."

They rode on at a leisured pace, enjoying the day and each other's company while they could. When the sun was directly above them, Alistair began sneaking sideways glances at Wynne, looking for any signs of fatigue. He knew better than to think she would actually say anything if she needed to rest. Recently she had begun to leave the long journeys to him, choosing to stay behind when he was called away. It bothered him more than he cared to admit. He didn't like the idea of Wynne getting older.

When they had learned that Bann Teagan—_Arl_ Teagan, Alistair mentally corrected—was finally getting married, he knew that Wynne would insist on coming along. After all, it was their friend who had managed to completely ensnare the unsuspecting lord and wrest him out of confirmed bachelorhood. Alistair chuckled to himself when he imagined the full force of Leliana's charms unleashed on someone she actually wanted.

Poor Teagan hadn't stood a chance.

Knowing that it had been quite a while since Wynne had made such a trip, and eager to spend a few weeks in Redcliffe, Alistair left Denerim well before the rest of those at court who had been invited, leaving plenty of time to stop and rest as they wanted.

Finally, about an hour past midday, he called a halt, deciding that Wynne was stubborn enough to hide it if she was tired, especially if she had seen him watching her. Besides, he was starving.

They stopped on the side of the road near a stream to water the horses. Alistair always tended his own horse, having never really grown comfortable with the idea of people waiting on his every whim when he was more than capable of doing it himself. It was one of the many things he'd had to learn to accept, but in time, he found a balance between being something like what was expected, and still keeping a sense of himself. He allowed his servants to do their jobs, but he wasn't about to let them dress him or care for his armor and weapons, and he was notorious for sneaking into the larder in the middle of the night in search of midnight snacks rather than sending someone else. Alistair's seemingly limitless energy and undemanding nature was a cause for amusement among his staff, and eventually, they found his tendency for embracing simplicity endearing instead of embarrassing.

Wynne shared his stubborn streak, and by the time he was done she was already fetching their lunch, refusing his suggestion that she sit down. Giving up, he stretched out on the grass and opened the book he had brought with him—a history of the Circle Tower that Wynne had given him.

He flipped through the pages, silently skimming over a few passages. It was a rare talent in those days, when education was a luxury only mages, nobility and children given to the Chantry could indulge in. Even with their privilege, the warrior lords of Ferelden didn't put much importance on learning, and most of them could only read aloud and slowly, sounding out unfamiliar words, choosing to let their scribes do most of their reading for them. Alistair, raised by more enlightened men before his Templar training, was a bit of an anomaly.

The Landsmeet didn't know what to make of some of his eccentricities, as they saw them. He had been met primarily with blank stares when he announced his intention to begin a place for education that would be open to all citizens. It was only one of the changes he was trying to make, and though resistance was minimal against this particular idea, he thought that the mages might prove to be valuable allies in the building process, and so was doing his best to make sure he was well versed in their history before he met with Senior Enchanter Irving to discuss it.

Without warning the book was abruptly plucked from his hands, and Wynne dropped a loaf of bread in its place. "We agreed there would be no working on this trip."

"I'm not _working_," he said. "I'm reading. I thought you approved of the habit?"

"No working." She took a seat on the grass beside him and handed him a chunk of cheese for him to slice up with his dagger before he got the chance to argue that he liked reading.

The sound of horses approaching interrupted him. Two riders were heading for their party at a gallop, and he and every other man there quickly got to their feet. He took the precaution of laying his hand on his sword hilt, but walked forward casually, not too concerned. He and his guards each wore shirts of finely crafted dwarven chain and their weapons were clearly visible. No hostile rider would pull off of the road and head straight for such a well-armed group the way these two did.

As they neared, Alistair felt the internal tug, and he increased his pace to a jog to meet them. The Wardens pulled their horses to a halt and dropped from the saddle to kneel in the dirt in front of him. He immediately recognized Darren, but the other Warden was a stranger to him. He sensed the tingle of magic in the air around the slender elf, but the man also wore chainmail and a rather wicked looking sword was strapped to his back.

"Your Majesty, I bring a message from the Wardens," said the mage, holding out a folded letter stamped with the griffon seal. "I apologize for the delay. I arrived at the fortress shortly after you left."

Alistair took the proffered note in some confusion. "What's happened?"

"My name is Thomas, Sire. I was one of the Wardens to accompany the Commander to Weisshaupt, but she sent me to return before the others. We were given orders to join you. This letter is addressed specifically to you."

He waved them up as he broke the seal, something inside of him giving a familiar lurch when he recognized the neat, graceful handwriting.

_Alistair—_

_I cannot write anything here, but something has happened that I must speak with you about as soon as possible. I'm sending orders to Vigil's Keep to have Darren and Thomas join you in Denerim. With your permission, I'd like them to serve as a part of your personal guard for the time being. I fear you will need a couple of Wardens at your back until we can get this resolved. I promise I'll explain everything when I see you._

—_Elissa_

_PS: By 'with your permission,' I mean I've already warned them that Zevran will use them for target practice if they so much as let you out of their sight, so please be reasonable and don't make their job any harder than it needs to be._

He read through the letter twice, baffled. The casual tone would have lifted his spirits at any other time, but now it only gave him a grim sense of foreboding. If Elissa was so distracted she had forgotten to be coolly formal with him, then nothing good could come of it. "Do either of you know what this is about?"

Darren answered for them. "No, Your Majesty. We were told only to stick to you like sap on a tree until the Warden Commander said otherwise."

Well, _that_ was a disturbing visual. Alistair glanced over the letter again, wishing Elissa could have been a little less vague about her concerns. He especially didn't like the secrecy she hinted at. What could have happened that made her fearful of other Wardens reading it?

"Well," he finally said with a sigh, "I'm not about to argue with someone who's saved my life several times over." He turned to the rest of his men, who were waiting by patiently at a respectful distance. "Captain Maryn! I have a couple of fresh recruits for you."

Maryn wandered over, holding a chunk of bread in his hands like a common rider. His icy blue eyes traveled over the pair curiously, but when he spoke, his words were directed at Alistair. "Wardens?"

Alistair nodded and briefly explained the contents of the letter. "Anyway," he finished, saying, "I'll leave it to you to figure out what to do with them."

The captain's mouth twisted, apparently less than happy with this arrangement. He had personally selected each member of the royal guard, and taking in strangers on the word of a woman he barely knew must have rankled. He glanced over Thomas with some apprehension, his well-trained eyes taking in the elf's slender build and soft hands in comparison with his warrior's attire. Thomas drew himself up and crossed his arms under the man's scrutiny.

"Battle mage, are you?" Maryn asked.

Thomas nodded once, curtly.

"Healing?"

"Very little. I specialized in elemental magic."

"Useful," Maryn said, apparently to the surprise of the elf. "Very well. You ride next to His Majesty. Maybe magic can keep him out of trouble, since he can't seem to do it himself. You—" this was directed at Darren, "ride at the front next to me. I'll trust the Warden Commander's judgment of the situation. But let me make myself clear—until you're back under her command, you follow my orders. Any back talking and I'll beat the shit out of you. We clear?"

"Yes, ser," they answered simultaneously, with the air of men well accustomed to taking orders.

"Good." He wandered away without another word.

Alistair shrugged and turned back to them. "It's his way."

"The commander speaks very highly of him," Thomas said politely, though Alistair doubted Elissa and Maryn had ever said so much as a word to each other. Apparently Elissa had found herself someone with at least a vague idea of diplomacy.

"Go and see to your horses," Alistair told them, "and then I want to talk to you about why exactly Elissa was called to Weisshaupt."

…

"To tell you the truth, we don't know much," Thomas said, delicately picking at a piece of bread while Darren wolfed down his lunch beside him. "It wasn't until we reached Orzammar that we learned there's been strange activity among the darkspawn for some time now. The timing seems a bit convenient, since the Warden Commander had been called away. She told us she had her suspicions about why Weisshaupt wanted to see her, but she's been in a temper recently, with all that happened since leaving Ferelden. None of us have been asking many questions."

Alistair disguised a wave of discomfort. He knew one reason why the Grey Wardens would demand to see Elissa. They wanted to know why she was alive. Up until now, the two of them had managed to deflect questions from the Wardens of Orlais, but both had known it was only a matter of time before the real summons came. He only wondered what had taken them so long. Alistair had told her once that he wanted to be there when it happened, but she had ignored him, apparently.

Big surprise there.

He concentrated on the matter he was more equipped to handle. "What do you mean there's been strange activity among the darkspawn?"

"There've been reports from Orzammar of an increase in attacks closer to the surface." Darren answered this time, brushing crumbs from his hands. "And there've been raids into the Korcari Wilds, as well. Makes everyone jumpy. After all, that was the site of the last Blight. Who knows what goes on in those ugly heads of theirs?"

"There hasn't been any sign of a horde, has there?"

"No," said Thomas. "There are … other signs missing as well," he said vaguely with a quick glance at Wynne. "It's not a Blight, but something has got them riled."

"And Elissa hasn't said anything about her suspicions? She must have some ideas as to what's been going on, if she thinks I need additional protection."

"If she does, she hasn't shared them with us yet."

"We had kind of hoped you knew," Darren said. "I mean, we always assumed she told you everything, what with your history, and all."

"Would you hold your cursed stupid tongue?" Thomas snapped. Alistair was beginning to see why the mage took the initiative in speaking for the pair.

"Well, it's not exactly a _secret_," Darren said with a grumble. "Thanks to the _Ballad of the Grey_, everyone in Ferelden knows they were together once."

Alistair sighed. _Thank you, Leliana_. "In case no one's told you, bards tend to pretty things up a bit." He kept his voice deliberately cool, and Darren looked slightly abashed. Although in that case, Leliana had stuck more or less to the truth, with the exception of making him sound infinitely more poetic than the stammering, blushing fool he had been. "It was a long time ago, regardless. The Warden Commander reports to me, that's all, and I haven't heard anything from her in some time."

Thomas frowned. "I was afraid of that. My orders first sent me to the Circle Tower and then to Denerim, so it's been some weeks since I left her in Orzammar. She was headed into the Deeproads to 'look around,' as she put it. I was very much hoping she would have returned by now."

Alistair's heart skipped a couple of beats at hearing where she really was.

"She can't exactly make it a pressed march with the kid in tow," Darren said, apparently not concerned with Elissa's prolonged absence. "She'll be back soon enough."

Alistair blinked, startled, and he and Wynne exchanged a puzzled glance. "She didn't take Daniel all the way to Weisshaupt, did she?"

"She didn't have any choice, Your Majesty," Thomas said. "He was part of the reason she was summoned. Apparently the Order keeps careful tabs on all children born of the Wardens, making sure nothing of the..." He glanced at Wynne again. "Well, making sure nothing carries over, like."

Alistair's stomach gave a tiny flip. "There's … not anything wrong with him, is there?"

"He's a _weird_ kid," Darren said, and Thomas glared at him.

"There's nothing wrong with him." The elf paused, stopping to consider his next words.

"You can speak openly here. Wynne knows of the Taint," Alistair said, growing a little impatient.

"Oh. Well then. There was a bit of a scare, originally. I guess she was unusually ill while she carried him."

Wynne nodded. "I remember. He was also born too early, if I recall."

Thomas shrugged. "I honestly don't know, my lady. But he doesn't bear any of the usual signs, if he is Tainted. None of us can sense him, to begin with. Ever since my Joining, it's been part of my responsibility to oversee his development, and there is nothing abnormal there. His demeanor just presents a few questions." He paused again, choosing his words carefully. "He tends to think a lot for a small child, and has a gift for reasoning far beyond his years. He also speaks like a much older boy. But then, the commander is no fool. It stands to reason her son would be exceptionally bright." He nodded towards Wynne. "I would very much like your input, should you get a chance to meet him. With my magical training, I'm far more knowledgeable how to blow things up then I am in the workings of a human child."

Wynne nodded, lost in thought. Despite the warmth of the day, Alistair suddenly felt cold. For the first time in a long time, he could almost feel the chill of the Taint pumping through his veins, warning him that something dire was approaching. He abruptly got to his feet, startling the others. "Let's get back on the road. I think better when I'm moving."

…

The next few days passed without incident. Surrounded by the signs of spring, Alistair could almost pretend that the dark omen he had felt was nothing more than his imagination running away with him. They were making good time towards Redcliffe, and he filled his mind with more pleasant thoughts of seeing Leliana again and spending some time in the company of people he cared about. The thought of the extravagant bard organizing her own wedding was enough to bring a smile to his lips. It promised to be a very colorful affair.

When they reached the woods that stretched across the hills outside of Redcliffe, the shadow that had begun to grow in his mind stirred once again. In the hush of the surrounding trees, he felt the first hints of unease—a prickling along his spine, like something was watching him, just out of his range of vision. At first he tried to ignore it, but the silence fell thick and heavy around him, lurking between the trees just beyond the voices of his entourage, and before long his hands ached from the grip he had on his horse's reins.

As they traveled further into the woods, he tried to figure out what was eating away at his nerves. His head felt strangely heavy, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He pulled his horse to a stop, glancing around at the trees. His guards were looking at him quizzically, but Alistair hadn't survived this long by ignoring his instincts, and right now they were screaming at him to arm himself. He knew he wasn't imagining things when the other two Wardens drew up close beside him and followed his example, appearing as ill at ease as he was. In an unspoken understanding the three of them reached for their weapons.

He felt it a matter of seconds before the younger men, but his mind refused to believe it. It couldn't be … not here...

But Darren was already moving to position to defend him and Thomas was yelling a warning to those trailing behind them. "Darkspawn! Arm!"

The warning just had enough time to sink in and allow the guards to get their weapons in their hands before the ogre came crashing through the trees, uprooting a pair of saplings as it charged straight for them.

"Protect the king!" he heard Maryn yell, but at that moment a mass of hurlocks slammed into them from the opposite side, and two of his guards went down before they could defend themselves. The air filled with the acrid smell of lighting. All around him darkspawn fell, their skin sizzling and releasing the putrid stench of burning flesh as Thomas' spell consumed them.

Alistair had nearly cut his way through the horde when suddenly his horse reared and screamed in agony, and he just managed to throw himself free before the animal went down into the mob. He felt Wynne's protective spell surround him just before he hit the dirt. He was in very real danger of being trampled by his own guards, and he quickly struggled to his feet, unharmed by the fall and thinking if he survived he was going to give Wynne a bone crushing hug.

There was a cry of agony, and the man to his left was tossed aside like a rag doll, landing hard in the distance. Alistair looked up and found himself face to face with the ogre.

He barely managed to dodge the doubled up fists coming down to crush him where he stood. He swung his sword with all his might, slicing the monster across its chest from stomach to shoulder. It let out a roar born more of anger than pain, and its thick, muscled arm swung back at him, sending him crashing into a tree trunk, dazed and winded. It lowered its head, and Alistair recognized the attack and threw himself out of the way, covering his face when the tree exploded in a cloud of splinters.

The beast seemed hardly slowed by the impact, quickly turning and coming for him again. A spell caught it full in the face, a thin sheet of ice creeping along its grey skin in painful crystals and slowing it down, but the ogre would not be held by magic. Alistair saw Thomas desperately casting another spell even as he and the others tried to fight their way through to him, but a crowd of darkspawn still stood between him and his rescuers.

The ogre changed its tactics and grabbed his arm, wrenching him up with such force he felt ripping, searing pain as the sinew in his shoulder tore, the abruptness and brutality of the attack jerking his sword from him. An enormous hand caught and closed around him, trying to squeeze the life from him. He felt the healing spells hit him, but they were doing little good against the onslaught, and he vainly struggled to break the suffocating grip.

_Just what are you going to do now, silly little king_?

In desperation he grabbed at the dagger in his belt, but it was trapped by the thick, crushing fingers of the ogre. The monstrous fist tightened around his chest in response to his squirming and he could feel his ribs cracking, driving the last bit of breath from his lungs. A red and black haze filled his vision, his body screaming for air. He would have laughed at the grim irony of it, had he been able to. Holy Maker, he was going to die just like Cailan.

He felt the rush of the arrow—it whizzed dangerously close to his head before embedding itself in the monster's eye. With a roar of agony the ogre dropped him, and instinct alone propelled him to roll out of the way before he was crushed. His tortured lungs gulped in air around the blinding pain in his ribs and arm, and he nearly blacked out at the sudden rush of life returning to him. Shouts erupted all around him. In the fog that filled his mind, he saw armored men with the griffon blazon on their shields rushing the darkspawn, battle cries on their lips. He tried to sit up, but only managed to get up to an elbow before the pain became too much and he realized he was damaging himself further.

The darkspawn were overwhelmed, routed by the newcomers and mercilessly chased down until each had fallen.

One of the warriors was running towards him, and as the helm was pulled from her head, strands of ebony hair tumbled around her shoulders. She fell to her knees beside him and examined him with worried eyes.

He would never forget those eyes, not if he lived a hundred lifetimes.

"Elissa?" he gasped, and then winced as white fire shot through him at the effort.

"Lie back," she said, careful hands skipping along his body, testing the extent of his injuries. He could only gape at her, and she met his gaze with something that looked suspiciously like a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Lay _back_, Your Majesty. You don't want one of those ribs puncturing your lung."

"I—how—what are you _doing_ here?" he finally managed to ask.

"Coming to your rescue, apparently," she said, and gave him a real smile this time, one that made his heart leap in his chest as if it had just remembered how to beat again. "Five years later and you _still_ need me covering your ass."


	4. Who Are you?

**Chapter Three**

_**Who Are You?**_

.

"_I didn't want to believe it then_

_But it all worked out in the end_

_When I watched you walk away I never thought I'd say_

_I'm fine without you."_

_~ "Without You" Hinder_

.

.

Alistair was aware that he was grinning like an idiot, but was completely powerless to stop himself. "Maker's blood, woman," he gasped, staring up at the beloved face that had changed so little since he had last seen it. "You've got the best timing _ever_."

She chuckled at that. "So it would seem. I'm just sorry we couldn't get to you sooner. Zevran came close enough to killing you with that shot as it was."

"Zevran?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that she was _here_. Of course the elf would be with her. Zevran never left Elissa's side, save for a handful of times he had come to Denerim with the Wardens, or occasionally for personal reasons Alistair never really wanted to ask about. The assassin's loyalty had flown in the face of every objection Alistair had ever had about him.

Well, nearly every objection. He was still a smarmy bastard.

"Yes, Zevran," she said, amused. "I think you're familiar with him? Elven, a bit on the short side, spent a year trying to figure out whether he wanted to kill you or seduce you?" She did laugh at the look he gave her for that and gestured over to the crowd of Wardens busily assisting the injured. He spotted the blond head quickly enough, as Zevran was the only one other than Wynne not blending in to the glint of matching chainmail. He was some distance away, reaching a hand down to a man lying in the dirt and wiping his face with his arm, both blood coated daggers gripped in his fist.

Alistair scowled. It just figured the wretch would have to go and save his life again.

Elissa had a small smile on her face like she knew exactly what he was thinking, but made no comment about it. "Do you think you can stand?" she asked more seriously. "We need to get you out of here."

Not really, but he wasn't going to admit that to her. She helped him to struggle to his feet, and though he remained hunched over, his injured arm curled protectively around him, he felt steady enough once he was up, though no less dazed. His mind was churning with a dozen questions, each one clamoring to get out first, but before he got a chance to ask any of them he was suddenly mobbed with concern. Elissa allowed herself to be shunted to the side while his people surrounded him, firing questions at him about the extent of his injuries.

Alistair didn't answer, their voices reduced to nothing more than a buzzing in his ears.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

She walked over to talk to a tall, sandy-haired fellow he knew very well. Aeryc was her second-in-command, and the one generally sent to Denerim on the rare occasions the Wardens needed to appeal to Alistair directly. He was a good person for the job, well-spoken and level-headed, but Alistair had stopped telling himself that was the reason he was the one who handled the task instead of Elissa a long time ago.

"Alistair!" Wynne's voice was the first to penetrate through his preoccupation. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Wynne," he said quickly, though his body was arguing otherwise. He felt more than a little guilty at the expression of concern on her face, thinking he should have immediately let her know he wasn't dying. "Calm down."

"Are you sure? You seem muddled."

He gave her a lopsided smile that was meant to reassure her, but it felt like a grimace. "Come on, you should know better than to think a rampaging embodiment of death could stop me," he said, trying to keep his voice light. Wynne's eyes narrowed in shrewd skepticism, and she jabbed a finger in his side. He let out a hiss of pain.

"I thought as much."

The warmth of her healing spell filled him. He was able to straighten up and roll his shoulder experimentally without cringing. "See? Never better."

Wynne was far from placated. "Please be careful—it's going to take more than that to heal you completely. If Thomas hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened. Thank the Maker the Wardens showed up when they..." her voice trailed off when she glanced over at the armored group and Alistair heard her breath catch in her throat. "Is that who I think it is?"

He was grinning again, damn it all. _Stop that_. "Yep."

Wynne's eyes darted to him, a small line appearing between her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth turned down slightly. She seemed, if anything, more worried than before. Alistair wondered about that, but before he could analyze it properly he was being hailed.

"Your Majesty!" Aeryc jogged over to him, his soft brown eyes as calm as always despite the gore splattered all over him—the telltale sign of a man who had seen too much death and violence for it to affect him strongly anymore. "The Warden Commander suggests we get you out of here as soon as possible. She would prefer you stay with us until we can figure out where that horde came from. Our camp is five miles from here, and there are twenty of us all together. You'd be hard pressed to find better protection."

Alistair focused on the number of wounded around him and knew that not even Maryn could disagree with him. They would need a secure place to lick their wounds, and besides, he needed some answers.

Wynne, however, looked like she had bitten into something sour. "Alistair, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"How many men are we down?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She didn't answer him for the space of a heartbeat, before grudgingly replying, "Three."

"We're not going to be able to handle another attack like the last one."

She studied him carefully before releasing a weary sounding sigh. "You're right. I'm sorry, but I can't say I'm thrilled at the idea of being in the same camp as Zevran again." That part may have been true, but it was a bald-faced lie in terms of whatever was really bothering her. Alistair decided he'd worry about it later, when he had the leisure to sort out whatever was going on. Right now he had people in his care that needed assistance.

Elissa set them on a hurried pace with the excuse that she was eager to get back to the protection of the camp before night fell, leaving them no time to talk. He thought it far more likely that she didn't want to deal with him just yet. After her initial greeting she had slipped back into her role as commander, and for some reason that seemed to include treating him like he was a stranger.

That particular attitude was much easier to handle when it came in letters.

Within a couple of miles, Alistair began to discover that he had been injured worse than he thought, and that Wynne's spell had, in fact, been nothing more than a patch up job to keep him moving. He hurt all over. By the time they reached the large clearing crowded with tents, he wanted nothing more than to go collapse somewhere and sleep for a very long time. He managed to dismount without staggering, trying to hide his discomfort.

But of course Elissa had noticed, because she never missed _anything_. Before he could even try to formulate a manly excuse for his weakness, she was taking charge. "Aeryc, go and fetch Thomas."

Alistair shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Wynne can—"

"She's drained," she said, cutting him off, and her voice cooled several degrees. "Thomas may not be the healer that she is, but he can manage. Your healer can see to you after she's rested."

_Your healer_? Since when had Wynne become 'your healer'? Alistair blinked at her, confounded, but Elissa wasn't paying attention to him anymore, directing her Wardens to see to the wounded. The last time Wynne and Elissa had been together, they were very close, sharing a warm relationship he had actually been a little jealous of. Elissa told Wynne everything, relieving doubts and anxieties on the kind mage that she had tried very hard to keep hidden from him. They hadn't even spoken to each other so far.

He wondered what the most polite way to ask someone about new and confusing hostilities was.

Unsurprisingly, he was drawing a blank.

He was saved from the effort when he heard a loud bark and a huge mabari came bounding across the camp, his tongue lolling out of his mouth happily at the appearance of his mistress.

"Aiden!" Elissa knelt in the dirt to greet him like she had been gone for days instead of an hour or so. Alistair shook his head, deciding he would never get used to the way she treated that monster like he was an Orlesian lapdog. If anything, he thought as Aiden rolled about in the dirt while she laughed and scratched his ears, the thing looked even _bigger_ than before.

"Did you take care of Daniel while I was gone? What a good boy you are! You remember the king, don't you?"

A silent snarl, flashing a row of sharp teeth, said that he did.

_Wonderful_. Why wasn't that flea ridden beast dead yet? "Hello to you too, mutt," Alistair grumbled, returning the animal's glower. Though no one in the party had been happy with Alistair after he and Elissa broke up, Aiden was the only one he could imagine resorting to violence, even after all this time.

The dog growled low in his throat, apparently agreeing.

"Be good," Elissa said, but there was a small smile in place, and Alistair didn't doubt it was at his expense. "Look—there's Thomas." She waved the mage over before he could remark on it.

… … …

It was nearly dark by the time Alistair escaped Thomas' care, what with Wynne hovering somewhere behind the poor elf's shoulder throughout the entire process. He had managed to come out of it more or less unscathed, though his arm was in a sling and likely would be for several days, much to his annoyance. Once he was free, he wandered the camp, his eyes automatically seeking out Elissa. Despite whatever feelings were beginning to stir just by having her within reach again, he needed some answers. It was with this determination that he went looking for her.

A canvas draped over a collection of poles and open at the front served as a shelter for the wounded, and Elissa and Aeryc hovered over their charges with a fierce kind of care—wolves protecting their pack, he thought to himself. Only two had been severely injured in the fighting, and as Alistair drew nearer he could hear Elissa murmuring reassurances to one of them while the healer worked furiously over him. He leaned against a nearby tree to wait.

Eventually, she emerged from the lean-to, her hands covered in blood. She spotted him immediately, but only spared him a glance.

"How are they?" Alistair asked while she scrubbed down in a bucket of water left for that purpose.

"They'll survive." She sounded weary, and Alistair reminded himself that she was coming straight from Weisshaupt, and likely hadn't slept with a real roof over her head in weeks. Unless you counted the miles of rock in Orzammar, which he didn't.

As he debated whether or not questioning her could wait until morning, Aeryc appeared and handed her a clean towel. "Have you bothered to feed yourself yet?"

"I will." She brushed her hair back out of her eyes. "Would you do me a favor and fetch Daniel? Devin took him to the lake so he wouldn't have to see this."

Aeryc nodded slowly, but Alistair didn't miss the way his eyes flicked over to him for a split second before he said, "Just promise me you'll take it easy." The exchange seemed to hold some sort of silent communication between them, and Aeryc waited for her nod before he turned and disappeared into the trees.

Seeing such protective loyalty grated for some reason.

She turned back to him and opened her mouth to speak, but softly exhaled the breath she had drawn and gestured for him to follow her. He did, taking advantage of the situation to let his eyes roam over her, noting the small differences time had made. The girl he remembered had been all sinew and muscle, her full breasts and hips just a little out of place on a body that had been hardened and forged into a weapon. But living a life that allowed her moments of peace in combination with her pregnancy had put a few pounds on her lanky frame, smoothing her figure into gentle curves and softening the angles of her face. She wore snug leather breeches and an old linen shirt stained with rings from sweating inside her armor. Her black hair was pulled back into an untidy knot, but the few strands that had worked themselves loose framed her face in loose waves.

She was even more beautiful then she had been before.

She caught him staring as she turned back towards him, well outside of the camp, and he looked away, positive he could feel the telltale signs of a blush coming.

_Very smooth, Alistair—why don't you just drool all over her while you're at it_?

"Why haven't you told me that the darkspawn are spreading out again?" he asked to break the awkward moment, and immediately frowned at himself. That had sounded awfully defensive after he had just been caught ogling. But, since it was a relevant question, he didn't take it back. "I mean, I know we haven't spoken in some time, but that sounds like something I should have been informed of."

"Because they haven't been," she said, her eyebrows pulled together in thought rather than annoyance, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. "There's been mild activity in the south, but this is the first time I've heard of a sighting out here. Besides, we were on our way to Denerim to see you."

Alistair had quite forgotten about her message in the chaos. "So you said. Is it about your summons to Weisshaupt?"

She grimaced. "In a way," she said with a furtive glance around her. "I assume you know why they sent for me?"

"I had some ideas," he said dryly.

She let out a long breath, one slender-fingered hand coming to rest at the curve of her neck and shoulder while she tilted her head to the side, thinking. "It's not the first time I've been questioned. I think they just saw the opportunity for another interrogation when they learned about Daniel. I wanted to warn you, they still seemed… skeptical."

He crossed his arms and sighed, gazing up at the darkening sky. The night was perfectly clear, giving him a bright view of the stars. "You should have taken me with you."

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I told you when we made this decision that I would face the consequences of it."

"And I told _you_ that you were being stupid. What are you going to do if they figure it out?" he asked, his voice dropping to an exasperated whisper as he brought himself to look at her again. "Tell them that _you_ did it? Call me pessimistic, but I think they may see right through that little ruse."

She shrugged one shoulder, her hand moving up to the back of her neck. "I don't know. Regardless, we've got a bigger problem, but I can't speak to you about it here. We'll have to wait until we can be alone." She looked up at him curiously. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Going to Redcliffe," he answered, trying to decide if he was going to let her change the subject that easily. The idea that something worse than the Grey Wardens learning of their little secret was not a thought he wanted dragging along behind him until they got a chance to speak privately.

He nearly laughed at himself at the thought, but it wasn't a happy feeling. He wasn't going to be left with any choice. He still knew Elissa well enough to know she wasn't going to tell him anything before she was ready. He had to trust in her need for secrecy.

Elissa misread his silence, and she closed her eyes again and rolled her head, rubbing the back of her neck. She had a headache, he realized. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when they summoned me. But at least part of that was because I assumed you wouldn't want to leave Denerim for that long. You're not exactly known for taking a lot of time to yourself, Your Majesty."

"I would have for you, and you know it," he said before he could stop himself, annoyed. She had yet to call him by name.

She looked away at that confession, chewing at her lip. "It's better you didn't go," she said with that calm conviction he was beginning to hate. "The journey there is a dangerous one—too dangerous for you to risk for some ridiculous sense of honor. I lost two good men out there."

"Yes, I know." The reminder was enough to make the mild irritation at her stubborn formality eke away. He wondered how welcome sympathy would be, coming from him. "I was very sorry to hear about Jaedan," he said at last. The shadowed pain in her eyes at the name cut him to the core. After all she had done, she deserved to be happy. It seemed horribly unfair that the Maker willed it otherwise.

"Thank you." For a moment, she let her guard down, allowing him to see the faraway look in her eyes. "I miss him."

The silence between them rang loud enough to drown out all other sounds after that, and Alistair was grateful when the moment shattered at the approach of excited chatter.

"Mama! I caught a fish!"

A boy was running towards them, Aeryc and Zevran following close behind him. Elissa's melancholy dissipated as suddenly as it had come. She bent over and held her arms open for him. Daniel threw himself into them without hesitation, jabbering so quickly in his excitement Alistair had difficulty sorting the flow of words out.

"Manners, Daniel," Zevran said, a bit louder than necessary. There was a bite to his voice that made Alistair glance up. The assassin was looking straight at him, his eyes glinting like steel in the fading light. "You are in the presence of royalty."

Elissa shot Zevran a dirty look, but Daniel seemed intrigued by this idea.

"You're the king?" he asked Alistair, tilting his face up to get a better look at him.

Alistair didn't have a lot of experience with children, but it seemed to him that being questioned by his former lover's son when this thought occurred to him had to classify as awkward on at least a dozen levels.

"The last I checked." He smiled, his chest filling with a strange heaviness as it sank in that Elissa was a _mother_. The boy was easily one of the most beautiful children he had ever seen, with dark wavy hair and large hazel eyes that dominated his face.

Those eyes were slightly narrow now, his head tilted a bit to the side as he considered him. "You're really tall."

"So I've been told," Alistair said, chuckling at Elissa's groan at the lack of etiquette. Aeryc raised a hand to his mouth to hide his own smile.

Elissa continued to glare daggers at Zevran, and there was an unspoken order in her eyes that made the assassin flinch.

"Daniel," Zevran said, picking up on the hint. "_Ven aquí_. You can greet your mother later when she is less busy."

"¿_Por que_?" Daniel asked, much to Alistair's surprise.

"_Haz lo que digo_. She will not be long." The last was said with a pointed look, and Elissa made a face at him. Alistair was tempted to do the same. Zevran had certainly gotten pushy. Heaving a sigh, Daniel turned his back on them and began to reach for Aeryc's outstretched hand.

"Daniel!" Elissa warned in that tone that all mothers seemed to wield with perfection. It was the strangest thing that had happened to him yet that day, hearing it coming from her.

"Oh." The boy blushed and made gave Alistair a passable bow. "It was an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he said solemnly, and then quickly scampered away, rambling on about his day to both men as they led him back to camp.

Elissa rolled her eyes and began to follow at a slower pace. "We're still working on it."

Alistair gave her a quick smile and fell into step beside her, neither of them in any particular hurry to return. A hint of familiarity followed them, one brick removed from the stubborn wall built up between them. Alistair didn't like to think of the night of the ritual, had spent years burying that memory in the darkest corner of his mind where, he could hope, it would eventually die. Yet he supposed it served as a reminder as well, that once upon a time, he and the woman beside him had meant everything in the world to each other.

"Antivan?" he finally asked, genuinely curious.

She shrugged. "I thought it best that he learn, so long as Zev was going to be hanging around. It never hurts to know more than one language."

"Aren't you worried about what he's teaching him?" he asked, grinning. "For all you know your son will be well versed in pick-up lines and little else."

"_Aprendí un poco_," she answered with a small smile, and his mouth fell open. She laughed softly.

"Right. Well then… shutting up now."

"Did you say you were going to Redcliffe?" Elissa asked quietly after a little while, staring at the ground.

It dawned on Alistair that she had no idea about the wedding or the message waiting for her at Vigil's Keep. He nodded, pleased to have at least some good news to impart. "Leliana and Teagan are getting married. You were invited, but since you didn't bother to tell anyone you were leaving..."

"Really?" She smiled to herself, not looking up from the ground. When she spoke again, she sounded hesitant. "Would you mind very much if we traveled with you?"

"What? No, of course not! I would love—that is, _Leliana_ would be more than happy—" He sighed at himself, and thought he heard a soft giggle come from her. "I mean… sure."

There was a definite giggle this time, and something that had been doused inside him for a long time rekindled at the sound. It was too familiar, walking beside her with the night sky above them, and he had to clench his hand into a fist to keep from reaching for hers.

At the edge of camp Elissa left him, headed back to her own people. Alistair sighed and stayed where he was. His guards had made sure to keep plenty of distance between the two groups, unnerved by the sight of mages and assassins treated as equals and allies in the Grey Warden camp. _Us and them_, he thought gloomily as he stole glances at her whenever he could from across the two camps.

Elissa didn't look back at him, busying herself in the everyday preparations before settling down for the night. She seemed constantly surrounded, the center and heart of the large group of people. Aeryc and Zevran didn't leave her side the entire evening, laughing at her and each other and tending to Daniel with the ease of longtime friends.

Alistair had never really allowed himself to think about what Elissa's life had become since the day she rode out of Denerim. His, busy and filled as it was, always seemed to dance around the hole she had left behind, constantly on the verge of wondering what could have been.

Elissa didn't seem to suffer from the same problem.

Alistair shook his head and stubbornly told himself to stop dwelling on things best left forgotten before heading to his own tent, suddenly exhausted.


	5. Shadow

**Chapter Four**

_**Shadow**_

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_You're so jaded_

_And I'm the one that jaded you_

_~ Aerosmith_

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The king was not happy.

Actually, he thought with a dark scowl as he deftly pulled the bit of rag through each ring of his armor to wipe away rust and blood, it was probably safe to say that he was _pissed_. He could feel his temper roiling through him, and knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that all those empty platitudes turned out to be right after all—the most dangerous animal in the world was wounded pride.

He glanced over at Elissa and Wynne as they walked through the busy camp. Aiden darted around and between them, running here and there in a state of wild excitement and shoving his nose in at least a dozen places it didn't belong, causing more than one kick to be aimed his way when he nearly bowled someone over in his haste. Daniel chased along behind him, not quite as interested as Aiden was in the splay of discarded herbs that were too old to use, but bored and willing to poke at them cautiously as the dog snuffled about the pile and came up with a violent sneeze.

Elissa was sending twelve of the Wardens on to Amaranthine while she continued on to Redcliffe, not wanting to descend on the unsuspecting arl with a small army in tow. All around her, men were gathering up their belongings, arguing over possessions, dumping things that could be left behind, and breaking up the large camp. Alistair recalled how jumbled and confused everything had gotten when he had traveled with a group of people for nearly a year—_No, Zevran, I don't want to know what it is, just keep it out of my pack_—he couldn't imagine doing it with a crowd this size.

He returned to cleaning his armor, the chainmail clattering across the wooden crate he leaned against as he yanked it closer, frowning.

Whatever tension existed between Elissa and Wynne was still present, but they were speaking again, and to the untrained eye, they appeared as two old friends, reunited after a long time apart. He knew both women too well to fall for that. Their talk was strained and guarded, but at least it was talk. He assumed they got into some sort of fight the last time they saw each other—and he was still ticked that he had somehow never heard about this—but they were obviously trying to put it behind them.

Not so between Elissa and himself.

She was polite, even kind to him—for the extent of the five or so words she had _said_ to him since the night in the woods. She wasn't avoiding him. Oh no, that would have been _far_ too obvious. She spent almost every evening within five feet of him, her and Aeryc sharing a fire with him and Maryn, as their rank dictated. And she was _good_. She talked, she laughed—she had managed in three nights to completely and utterly charm Maryn out of his icy exterior with tales of her adventures since becoming the Warden Commander of Ferelden. She played it up so well, Alistair was quite sure that he was the only one who noticed that she also completely _ignored_ him.

Whether or not they knew the cause behind his sullen anger, the crowd of people who traveled with Alistair had certainly felt it, and they were strictly avoiding him this morning. Only Maryn had seemed willing to approach him while the turbulent storm cloud lingered, and even he seemed less than confident about walking away from the encounter in one piece. Finally, they decided to leave him to his self-imposed exile.

Which was why the sound of the child's voice so close by made him jump nearly a foot in the air.

"I thought kings didn't have to do stuff like that," Daniel said, his face screwed up in thought as Alistair readjusted the armor and began to scrub at a particularly tough spot, absently wondering what on earth he had managed to do there.

_Well, it turns out kings have to do a whole host of bloody fucking things they don't want to do_, he thought bitterly, but was careful to keep the snarling thought hidden from the boy. Daniel propped both of his elbows on the crate, his chin resting in small hands as he watched the man work, seemingly oblivious to Alistair's dark mood.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, pleased that he was able to keep the edge that had been sharpening his voice at bay, though not entirely positive it mattered. From what he had seen so far, the boy's upbringing was far from ordinary. While he spent most of his time with his mother, the other Wardens all seemed to take a hand in caring for him, and Daniel seemed no more moved by swearing, loud, short tempered men than he was by…herbs, for example.

Alistair dimly remembered being fascinated and awed by the soldiers who served Redcliffe castle when he was growing up, strong men who carried themselves with a confidence that a skinny, orphaned bastard sorely lacked, and one in a temper had been enough to make him scamper for cover. Daniel seemed to take them for granted, watched over as he was by warriors who didn't know how to be anything but, and who made very poor if rather amusing nursemaids. They were more than willing to keep Daniel occupied, taking him fishing and making sure he got fed when his mother was busy. It was likely the idea of someone who was something other than a Grey Warden was far more interesting to him.

"The stories say that kings have a lot of servants who do those kinds of things for them," the child said, trying to clamber up on the crate to sit next to him, and Alistair reached out a hand to steady him before he toppled back into the dirt.

"I suppose that's true," he replied cautiously, unsure how to explain his odd behavior to a four-year-old. "But haven't you ever heard the saying if you want something done right, do it yourself?"

"Mama says that all the time."

Alistair laughed in spite of himself, his eyes darting over to Elissa. She was watching them curiously, but didn't come over to intervene. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

Daniel considered this, crossing his legs and settling his hands in his lap. Once again, Alistair was reminded of the stark difference between them. When he was a child, it seemed his entire body had hummed with restless energy that he just couldn't find enough outlets for no matter what he did. He couldn't count the number of times he had been told to sit still and stop squirming. Stillness seemed to be Daniel's natural state, and he was suddenly reminded about Thomas' warnings that there was something odd about the child.

"Mama said you used to be a Grey Warden, too," Daniel said, perhaps wondering if this somehow made him different from the kings of the tales he talked about.

So, she had at least explained his presence. Alistair had begun to grow quite certain she was just going to ignore the fact he was there entirely. "I still am. It's not something you can stop being."

"Oh." His eyes rested with distinct longing at the sword strapped to Alistair's hip, which he found to be a strange fascination, given the circumstances. "Can you fight as good as she can?"

He laughed at that, his stirring of affection for the child swelling somewhat for allowing him the opportunity. "For my own safety, I'm going to let your mother answer that question."

"She doesn't let me see her fight," he said, swinging his heels noisily against the side of the crate as he sulked over the injustice of it. "She says that I'm not supposed to fight, so there's no reason to see her."

Alistair frowned to himself. That just seemed… dumb. "She hasn't talked about teaching you?"

"No." His words went flat, obviously quoting something he had probably heard over and over again. "'A man's brain is much more important than any skill with a sword.'" He sighed. "Is that true?"

This line of questioning was certain to get him into trouble, but Daniel was looking at him expectantly, and he felt a tenuous sympathy for the boy, reminding himself that he had just lost his father, though Alistair wondered why _he_ hadn't started training the lad. "I'd say he needs a good bit of both, actually."

"Aeryc thinks so, too, but I'm not allowed to tell Mama he said so."

Alistair laughed again, and the dark mood that had been clutching at him broke its hold and vanished. He also decided right there that he rather liked Aeryc.

"Daniel." Elissa's reprimand disrupted the moment, but sounded faintly nervous rather than upset. "You shouldn't be bothering His Majesty."

"He's not _bothering_ me." Alistair winced at the poorly concealed sneer behind the words. He had calmed down to the point that he had some perspective again, and realized he was going to have to get over his damaged ego pretty quickly, or this was going to be a very unpleasant trip.

Elissa raised an eyebrow at him, but she seemed more curious than offended. "Oh? And what do you two have to talk about that's so interesting?"

"Guy things." He kept his tone light, trying to make up for his earlier harshness.

She crossed her arms, and she was smiling a little. "Guy things."

"Yes. As in things that are not mother things. Wish I could tell you, but it's against the rules. My hands are tied."

A breeze kicked up, and the flutter of cloth that had been carelessly tossed aside on the crate caught her eye. Elissa gave him an exasperated look, but there was just enough playfulness in it he began to hope there may be something salvageable there after all. "Didn't Thomas tell you to wear that sling for at least a week?"

He gave her his best innocent look. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

She smiled at him, and though her eyes were guarded as ever, it occurred to Alistair that maybe she didn't really know what to do, either. He had been taking it for granted that she always knew how to handle everything, that she could point him in the right direction before he made a complete ass of himself.

Which may have been a little unfair, in hindsight.

She shook her head, still smiling. "Come on, Daniel—you need to eat something before we go."

"I'm coming, Mama." Daniel twisted around, trying to slide down from his perch. Alistair quickly caught him and set him on the ground before he could fall right off. Maker's breath, the boy was clumsy. Maybe that was why Elissa hadn't encouraged his interest in sword craft. He earned a timid grin and the wave of a small hand. "Goodbye, Your Majesty."

"Alistair," he said. "You can call me Alistair." He watched as Elissa reached out a hand and led him away, back towards the bustle of the camp, waiting until she was well out of earshot before muttering, "Maker knows _someone_ in this camp should."

… … …

"That child has been touched by magic."

Alistair looked up from the book he had been trying to read in the failing light, thankful for the interruption. Wynne stood over him, her eyes narrowed in concern and her lips pressed into a hard line. She seemed to expect a reaction from this announcement, but he only blinked at her. _Who hadn't_? But Wynne didn't put on her serious face all that often since moving to Denerim, and so he knew there was more to it than simply reporting that Thomas had once healed a paper cut for the child. "What do you mean?"

She was quiet for a moment as she sat down beside him, pondering her words. Her gaze remained locked on Daniel, who was curled up at his mother's side beside the fire, fighting to keep drowsy eyes from closing. "I'm not sure," she answered at last, sounding hesitant. "It's nothing quite tangible, or you would have noticed. But there are traces of the influence within him."

Alistair sat up from his lounging position, the full weight of her words hitting him. "Do you think he's a mage?" Not that he had anything against mages, but he was aware of how early some of them starting showing an affinity for magic. He was also equally, painfully aware that Elissa had very little regard for minor things like _laws_.

"I don't think so," Wynne said with much more conviction, but his relief was short lived. "It almost feels as though the Fade clings to him, but he lacks the conduits needed to use it, if that makes any sense at all."

No, it didn't, thank you very much, but it certainly sounded _worse_. "If he's not a mage, than what is he?"

She shrugged, looking like she had somehow let him down by not having the answer. "I don't know, Alistair. I'm working solely on intuition. The signs are very subtle—I wouldn't have caught them myself had I not been examining the boy like Thomas asked me to do. But, I can tell you I've never seen anything like it before."

As if common mages weren't feared enough. Wynne had seen an awful lot in her time. The idea that there was a magical mystery sitting across the camp from him, waiting for someone with little regard for his life and a lot of desire for knowledge to find him and poke and prod at him… and how interesting would that make the boy to the Circle Tower, if they found out? To the Chantry?

Alistair dragged a hand through his hair and swore violently beneath his breath.

He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

He racked his brain, trying to remember every little thing he knew about Jaedan, namely whether or not he had been some kind of warrior magic user like Thomas, but realized without trying very hard that his knowledge of the man amounted to very little. Any detail past the fact that he was Elissa's lover had seemed irrelevant. He could trust that if Jaedan had been a Circle Mage, Wynne most certainly would have mentioned it, so that was something, even if it got him no closer to the solution.

There was also Elissa's reaction to worry about. During their time together, she had skirted and slid under every law in Ferelden, seeing them as little more than obstacles in the way of her goal. Granted, she'd been careful not to get caught before, but then, those indiscretions hadn't involved someone trying to take her son away. She had already lost so much in her life. He supposed it was possible that in the past five years she had set aside that haughty, rebellious nature and developed a more sympathetic view for those who tried to keep order, but the Elissa _he_ had known was just that perfect kind of stupid-brave that would lead to trouble.

Trouble with the Chantry.

Alistair was certainly no stranger to fear, but he had never known fear like this, a worm crawling in the pit of his stomach. Though he had been battling for several years to convince the Chantry to loosen the rules of the Circle Tower, it kept clenched in its iron fist, he was making very little headway, and where that particular organization was concerned, his authority meant next to nothing. If it somehow got out that the Hero of Ferelden was hiding an apostate...

Well, he wasn't even going to think about that.

Wynne was looking at him, worry evident in every line of her face. "Perhaps if we took him to the Circle Tower—"

"No." Even he was surprised by the emphasis on the word. "Not the Tower. You can work this out, I know you can. There's not a mage there who knows more than you, including Irving."

She pursed her lips, disconcerted by his attitude. "I'll... try."

"Do that, please. We need to be sure." _I have to know if safeguards need to be put into place._

But Wynne could hear the unspoken words as well as the spoken, and she placed a hand on his arm in alarm. "Alistair—"

"I'm _not_ letting them take him from her, Wynne."

The elder woman's eyes were troubled, but she nodded. Whether or not she agreed with him was up for debate, and he was sure she only intended to placate him until she could find the right way to reason with him. He didn't care. "I'll talk to Thomas. Together, we should be able to sort this out."

He relaxed a little at that, but continued to stare at the campfire in an effort to ignore the way she was looking at him. With a sigh, she released him from her piercing gaze and changed the subject. "How far outside of Redcliffe are we?"

The topic was more welcome than the previous one, but still not something he wanted to dwell on. "We should reach it tomorrow." He wasn't quite as eager for the celebrations as he had been a few days ago, a little apprehensive at the idea of _her_ being there now.

In terms of uncomfortable situations, attending a wedding in the company of the woman you had intended to spend the rest of your life with then _jilted_ in front of all your friends certainly had to rank high on the list.


	6. Older and Far Away

**Chapter Five**

_**Older and Far Away**_

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_But I really wanted you to stay_

_And then I let you just slip away_

_~ Jordan Knight_

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A bouncing, trundling cart was not the most ideal of places to hold a lesson, but over the past year of nearly constant travel, Elissa and Daniel had learned to adjust. She couldn't very well have called a halt in the march for several hours a day to see to his schooling, and so instead spent that time riding next to him and using what bard's lore she knew, rather than books, so the lurch of motion combined with trying to read didn't make him ill. A little practice with letters didn't hurt, though, and Daniel curled up beside her with his book in his lap and concentrated hard to find the characters he knew, asking about the ones he didn't. He took to his lessons the same way he did everything else, with quiet interest and minimal fuss, eager to reach the point where the strange marks looping across the page would magically become words he could understand.

For most of her life, Elissa had scorned the countless hours she saw as wasted on her own lessons—ignorance only the youngest daughter of a rich family, with access to one of the best educations in Ferelden, could be arrogant enough to achieve. Motherhood had snapped many things into perspective for that carefree and often care_less_ girl. It had granted her with a desire to give her tiny, miraculous son every part of the world that was in her power to offer, and to reach further and grasp at things that weren't after he had it all.

Daniel was like a sponge under her tutoring, his wide hazel eyes absorbing the world around him in an earnest desire to know. Fergus had been similar as a child, she dimly recalled, pestering Aldous for obscure bits of lore or the proper way to use a new word while his more rambunctious sister flitted away her education reading fairytales and poetry instead of history and law like a proper lady should have.

How he laughed when he saw her now.

A shadow fell over the pair as a rider pulled alongside the cart, and Elissa knew without looking up that it would be Alistair. It had been a slightly terrifying discovery when she realized she could still feel him, easily singling him out from the crowd of Wardens that constantly surrounded her. He had also taken to cornering her at every opportunity, grasping and almost desperate for something he had expected to be there that wasn't, and she was at a loss on how to help him find it. She was too torn between feeling an unnerving sense of something sliding back into place the moment she saw him—despite her best efforts, the passing years had carried the odd sensation that someone was missing—and the more urgent desire to keep her distance and her sanity. His very presence summoned a wave of hesitance and guilt that threatened to drown her.

Daniel suffered from no such crisis of resolution, and he looked up from his book and waved happily at the king's approach. And he _was_ the king, she told herself stubbornly. Not Alistair.

_Never_ Alistair.

"May I?" she heard him ask, and Daniel readily handed the book over. She could hear the humor in his tone as he read the Orlesian title aloud in an accent that bespoke some practice with the language before he handed it back. "Kind of hefty reading for a four-year-old, inn't?"

Elissa laughed despite her churning emotions and shielded her eyes against the sun's glare to look up at him. "We're just practicing with the letters."

"I see," he said with that grin that once had the ability to turn her into a simpering idiot. "I suppose the idea of using a child's ledger for such a thing would seem too tame for someone who wrestled with dragons not so long ago."

This was another tactic of his, to bring up the past in hopes of lowering her defenses, and for a brief moment she indulged him, laughing quietly. "You say that as if I were the one taunting the thing."

Daniel looked up at the man through squinted eyes. "You killed a dragon?"

"More distracted then killed. Let it knock me about while your mother and Zevran killed it, actually. Very heroic. Minimal screaming. I'll tell you about it sometime."

"To answer your question," she said, aware she was still smiling, "this is the only book I had on hand. I haven't exactly been doing my shopping in Ferelden lately."

"So you haven't." His eyes followed Daniel as the boy grew bored without the promise of tales of dragons and clambered to the other side of the cart to watch the riders go by. "I missed you, you know." His voice was quiet and serious, and Elissa was caught off guard. She felt her heart speed up.

"You didn't even know I was gone," she pointed out.

He smiled at her again, and something soft and disarming in that smile warmed some part of her she hadn't realized still lived in the cold.

Maybe humoring him had been a terrible idea, after all.

"I wasn't only talking about this year," he said gently.

How did he still have this ability to send her thoughts scattering in a hundred different directions? It hardly seemed fair. Daniel rescued her from having to formulate a proper and polite way to tell him to _knock it off_.

"Mama, can I ride with Aeryc for a while?"

Elissa was startled to find her second on the other side of the cart, watching her with a raised eyebrow and a barely suppressed smile. She realized with no small amount of horror that sometime during her conversation, she had leaned forward against the edge of the cart, her arms crossed and resting on the side and her chin pillowed on them, looking for all the world like a woman intent on flirting.

Funny how the ground never opened up and swallowed you whole when you _wanted_ it to.

"Go ahead," she answered her son, with a glare at Aeryc that dared him to say anything. He only laughed at her.

"C'mon, turnip," he said with his quiet smile, easily lifting the boy out of the cart and settling him in the saddle. Elissa shook her head, refusing to look at Alistair as she reached up and tugged on the driver's sleeve. "Stop for a second?"

He did as she asked, but as she jumped over the side she distinctly heard Alistair murmur, "You aren't running away _already_, are you?"

He _knew_ how flustered he had made her.

Damn it all.

… … …

The afternoon grew hot and muggy along the shores of Lake Calenhad, and when they finally stopped some five miles outside of Redcliffe, Elissa's orders that the men make themselves presentable for their arrival was met with far less complaining than she had been anticipating.

"Why do I have to take a bath?" Daniel asked while she clambered up on the wagon to search through their trunk for something Daniel could wear that wasn't covered in grass stains. The shaded copse was quieter than she was used to, most of the crowd having gone down to the lake to bathe. Out of the corner of her eye, Elissa saw a couple of pages hauling up buckets of water for Wynne to sponge herself off in, and wondered if the mage would be willing to set aside some for Daniel.

"We're part of the king's entourage," she said patiently. "That comes with certain expectations." The king was currently returning from the lake. She could feel him, but didn't bother to look up, sure he would pop up behind her sooner rather than later. At last she found a tunic that Daniel had barely worn that was still clean.

"Do they think just because he's the king he doesn't get dirty?"

"Nope, and neither does anyone around me." She felt the shake of the cart as Alistair leapt up behind her to go through his own belongings. "I'm also not to get bored, sleepy, or, to judge by the look of horror given to me by my kitchen staff, overly hungry."

Elissa turned to find him quite close, hunkered down as he dug through a sack for—she devoutly hoped—a shirt. His wet hair, a bit longer than she remembered, was pushed back from his face and his skin was still damp, glistening in the sun. She quickly averted her gaze.

"If I recall, your appetite is more than enough to terrify even the most level-headed of servants," she said and jumped to the ground to put some distance between them. "And do you think you could refrain from making the practices of the court sound ridiculous? I have to teach Daniel how to survive them."

"They _are_ ridiculous. Be proud your boy can spot that. Men who are busy getting offended because I use the wrong fork during the main course waste the time and energy of everyone around them."

That may have been true, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of admitting as much. "All the same, he's a Cousland, and I expect him to carry on the reputation that comes with that name."

Something flicked behind Alistair's eyes. "Yes, I heard," he said in a professional, emotionless tone she would never have heard from him before taking the crown. "Your brother came to me some time ago with the petition to name Daniel as his heir." He pulled a clean shirt over his head, much to her relief. "I take it he's given up any thought of remarrying?"

Elissa was aware of the friendship between Fergus and Alistair, and so could not begrudge him for a wondering likely driven by honest concern. "I don't know," she answered. "He gets in a temper if I so much as mention it. I heard you put the petition on hold. Are you hoping that he may change his mind?"

"I'd like to give him the chance to. While Daniel would certainly be the best choice to inherit the teyrnir if Fergus doesn't provide an heir, things could get tangled if he does after the fact. Particularly if Daniel is old enough to be familiar with the holding and to the vassals of Highever. They could very well see a son of Fergus' as a usurper. Far poorer holdings have been torn apart for having too many heirs and ambitious men willing to take sides."

"That's very far-sighted of you," she said, more in surprise than real compliment.

"Yes, well, someone told me once that I could handle this job," he said with a grin. "Looking ahead is a lesson quickly learned in my position."

"Well, I agree with you. I was holding out full sanction myself in case he should change his mind." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm a little surprised you haven't pressed him to marry someone of your choosing. There's a powerful alliance waiting to happen there." He winced, looking so abruptly guilty that she laughed. "What is it?"

"I, ah, may have tried to convince him to take Anora off my hands. It … didn't go over well."

She laughed again. "Oh, Alistair..."

He shrugged one shoulder, and for a brief second he looked like the awkward almost-templar that she remembered. "I'll have you know that it was a brilliant, kingly idea. I just failed to take into consideration the fact that he hates her."

"He doesn't, actually," she said, still chuckling. "But he knows she hates _me_. He's not going to let himself be tied to a woman who we all know is politically savvy enough to spend fifty years plotting my demise, nor does he want to have to pat her down for hidden daggers every time I visit." She sighed, and her smile faltered. "Though, I'm beginning to think he'll find fault with anyone you recommended. He knows you won't order him outright, and he was madly in love with Oriana."

"Give him time," Alistair said, abruptly looking away. His voice was quiet when he spoke again. "Five years isn't such a very long time to get over the person you were supposed to be with."

She was fairly sure they weren't talking about Fergus anymore. She hurriedly scooped up Daniel, who had been busying himself by tickling Aiden's nose with a blade of grass while he slept. "Come on, my sweet. Let's see if Wynne will heat some water for you."

"Why can't I go to the lake?" he whined.

"Because I can't take you down there while they're bathing and I don't trust any of those morons to make sure you stay in the shallows."

"I'll watch him."

The offer was unexpected enough that it took a moment for Elissa to answer. She had been trying to keep any doorways to her personal life shut tight and locked against Alistair, but he seemed equally determined to kick them down. He did appear to be genuinely fond of Daniel.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

But Daniel was looking at her with pleading eyes, and to deny him would be nothing short of churlish. "All right, then." She sighed, setting him down. He nearly tripped himself in his haste to get away.

"Maker's breath, lad, pick up your feet." Alistair laughed before easily hefting the boy and tossing him onto one shoulder like a sack of flour. Daniel happily waved goodbye to his mother as they started for the lake. "Come on then—let's go get you looking like a _Cousland_, I suppose."

… … …

News had already reached Redcliffe that the king's party was approaching the city. As they filed into the neatly cobbled courtyard of Redcliffe Castle, Teagan and Leliana were waiting at the top of the stairs to properly greet them. Leliana managed to hold herself with all the poise and elegance of someone in her soon-to-be position—until she caught sight of Elissa and Zevran. With a very un-arlessa like squeal, she gathered her skirts and raced down the steps, leaving the Grey Wardens in her path scrambling to get out of the way or get knocked over. With a happy cry she threw her arms around Elissa's neck. "Oh, it's so wonderful to see you here!"

She still smelled of flowery Orlesian perfume, and Elissa had to blink back tears as she was overwhelmed by just how much she had missed being around friends who knew her before she was the Commander of the Grey. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to send you warning that we were coming. I only just found out."

"The important thing is that you are here. It would not have been the same without you, Elissa."

"You wound me, _bella_," Zevran said with a smirk, and gave a throaty chuckle when she greeted him just as enthusiastically. "But I am certain to get over it, no?"

Leliana disentangled herself and smoothed her dresses, her wide blue eyes sparkling. "I think we will have to mind our proprieties now, yes?" she whispered loudly. Elissa felt abruptly uncomfortable when she realized they had just created a huge breech in etiquette. But Alistair was laughing quietly to himself, and his guards were struggling to mask their looks of strong disapproval in the wake of the king's reaction. Still, the smile Leliana slid him when she reached the top the stairs was decidedly mischievous. "Allow us to extend to you the comforts of our hall, Your Majesty," she said, dropping a perfect curtsey.

"I would be honored, Your Grace," Alistair replied, then shocked his guards into silence when he dragged her forward and soundly kissed her cheek, Leliana's bubbling giggles filling the courtyard.

… … …

For Leliana, getting ready for dinner could be a momentous event all on its own. Now that half of Ferelden's nobility were arriving for the wedding to be held in four days, she was in her element. There were small events planned throughout the week to keep her guests entertained during their stay, appropriate sized feasts planned for every night leading up to the actual day of the celebration. Later that evening, Elissa found herself in the bard's personal chamber as she sorted through a mountain of clothes, trying to decide what was best to wear to dinner.

"It's not every day we get visited by royalty," she said with a wink as she shifted through the contents of her wardrobe.

"It's only Alistair." Elissa was aware that she sounded like a petulant child and tried to decide if she cared or not. It wasn't as if Leliana didn't know the entire sordid history there.

"Yes, but he is a king now, and we should strive to behave accordingly. It is an insult to him otherwise." Her delicate hands flitted across several different articles before she drew out a gown of pale blue silk. "I was very interested to see that you arrived with Alistair." There was a gleam in Leliana's eye that made Elissa squirm uncomfortably in the plush chair. "It's so pleasant to see you in each other's company again."

"I save him from being crushed by an ogre," Elissa said, hollow at the thought that people were noting they had arrived together. She wondered how long it would take before the rumors started flying.

"Perhaps, but still, it's a relief to some of us to see you speaking again." She was quiet for a moment as she considered a heavily laced dress before shaking her head and tossing it onto the bed. "He's missed you—you must know this."

"Really? Because he's known where to find me." The bitterness in her voice surprised her.

Leliana didn't as much as blink, just held up a simple gown of deep blue for inspection. "Oh, Elissa. When have you ever known Alistair to take the first step towards anything? If you will be reconciled with him, it will be up to you." The gown seemed to meet her approval, because she nodded thoughtfully and tossed it to Elissa. "It will bring out the color of your eyes."

Elissa let out a shaky laugh. "I should have known you would take the very first opportunity to dress me up."

"Of course." She was given a quick smile. "Because for my wedding, you will be beautiful. You will laugh and dance and drink too much wine, because I know that you have not allowed yourself anything of the sort in Amaranthine. You need me, my Elissa. What would you become without me?"

"Sane?"

Leliana laughed her musical laugh. "Perhaps. But you would be most unhappy that way, I think."


	7. Consequences

**Chapter Six**

_**Consequences**_

.

"_For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."_

_~Sir Isaac Newton_

.

.

"Darkspawn?" Teagan blinked, his expression revealing a faint hope that he had misunderstood. "Near Redcliffe?"

Alistair nodded, briefly taking his eyes from the fighters on the field—or more specifically, from one particular fighter—and gave the arl his full attention. "Four days out. A pack that size doesn't come out of nowhere."

"We've heard nothing of this," Teagan replied, worry settling in his eyes and wrinkling his brow. "Since the commander stationed the Grey Wardens at Ostagar, we've had no trouble with the darkspawn."

Alistair didn't respond immediately, gritting his teeth against the memory of _that_ argument. Elissa had managed to talk him around in the end, as always, but it still seemed wrong, stationing troops where more than enough Grey Warden blood had been spilled already. The fact that it seemed to be working only annoyed him. "They've reported a rise in activity, but they're as much at a loss as we are. Just watch your borders closely."

"I will, my liege, and thank you for the warning. Maybe a bit of recruiting of my own wouldn't be amiss." Teagan looked sad as his gaze flickered over the knights of Redcliffe, a few of whom were currently standing in the growing crowd around the sparring Wardens. Many of them were young, almost too young—boys barely reaching manhood. "Redcliffe can't withstand another attack."

"I know," Alistair answered. Though Redcliffe had prospered under Teagan's guidance, it had never completely recovered from the loss of life at Connor's hands during the Blight. So many more had been killed during the war, and no amount of skill or leadership could replace human lives. "I've already sent word to Denerim to provide you with at least some soldiers for now."

Teagan sighed, resigned to set his pride aside and take help where it was offered. It was only one of the things that made him so respected by his people. "My thanks, Alistair." He glanced towards the castle, with a faraway look in his eyes. He was remembering the dark days that had seen Redcliffe under siege by mysterious and dangerous magicks, when the blue lake was dotted with a multitude of floating pyres. "We simply have to start training the younger men now. I—" He stopped abruptly, and Alistair turned and saw why. Arl Royce was headed in their direction, and neither wanted the news of the darkspawn or of Redcliffe's continued weakened state to get around. Redcliffe was in a crucial strategic location. Alistair saw no need to tempt the tenuous peace with the Orlesians by advertising that there was a glaring hole in his defenses. Also, though Teagan was more than capable of serving as the arl, the other nobles would be quick enough to turn on him if they thought they had a chance at adding the rich bannorn to their own holdings.

Royce did not try to hide his discomfort at being outside in the training yard. It would forever remain a mystery to the members of the court why Alistair preferred sitting on a fence in the yard instead of being inside taking in the comfort of Redcliffe's hall. While Leliana was busy within, greeting the handful of nobles that would take Teagan's hospitality until the wedding, Alistair had remained outside, less than eager to get cornered by the crowd. While each of them came out to pay their respects to their liege lord and their host, they were eager to escape back into the cool stone of the castle.

Royce proved to be no different, and soon they were left alone again.

The sun blazed relentlessly overhead despite the fact it was still morning, and servants bustled back and forth with their errands, sweating in the heat. They had it easier than the poor slobs in the yard, Alistair thought to himself while he, Teagan and Maryn lingered in the shade cast by the sheds. If Thomas and Darren had thought they were getting out of their training exercises because of their new capacity as part of the royal guard, they must have been sorely disappointed when Elissa stormed the barracks that morning, ordering all of them up and armed.

The Wardens paired off in twos, using every talent and spell at their disposal until Aeryc or Elissa yelled for them to switch off. It was an effective way to train, but Alistair wondered if the Chantry knew that mages were learning to defend themselves against templar abilities.

He imagined they'd be less than pleased.

Despite the uncomfortable weather, the scene was beginning to draw a crowd. Redcliffe harbored a soft spot for the Grey Wardens after Alistair and Elissa had saved them during the Blight, and it was only amplified the following year when Alistair was crowned king. As far as they were concerned, he was one of them, and being the senior Grey Warden to boot only increased their pride. Never mind the fact that Elissa was the Commander of the Grey and, in reality, the one who had slain the archdemon. She had only managed to pull that off through a twist of bad luck that had very nearly killed him. If he hadn't been mobbed by shrieks and choking on his own blood, Alistair would never have risked allowing her to take that final blow.

Currently the Warden-turned-King was struggling not to make it too obvious that he was watching Ferelden's savior far more than any of the other fighters. Elissa herself handed him an excuse to continue to do so a few moments later, stepping into the middle of the field to face off against Aeryc. As the matches came to their final conclusions between the other Wardens, they quickly left the field and joined the spectators, grinning widely and placing wagers amongst themselves. Alistair concluded this sparring between commanders was a rare occurrence, and wondered if it was at least in part for his benefit. It would make sense, to let him see what the kingdom's coffers were supporting.

The two were nearly evenly matched, Elissa's speed making up for her lack of strength. Both were fighting with a longsword to even the playing field, since Elissa generally fought two-handed and Aeryc preferred the use of sword and shield. Their movements were fluid and fast, blurring into a ballet of steel and strength before each stepped back, circling each other once again, calculating.

Alistair relaxed, enjoying the show. He'd always loved watching Elissa fight. It was the way she moved that had first called to him—supple and agile, with the easy grace of a wild animal.

"They're an impressive pair," Teagan remarked. It was an innocent enough comment, but the idea brought forth a small frown from Alistair. It wasn't lost on him that Aeryc had taken what would have been his place at Elissa's side. What made things worse, he was good at it. He handled the position with the same quiet confidence he did everything else, perfectly loyal to Elissa and ready to back up the decisions she made, but equally ready to pull her aside and tell her when he thought she was being an idiot, something that a bumbling young templar had never been exceptionally good at. When Elissa railed, Aeryc railed back, and together, they had remained the uncontested leaders of the new order.

Alistair didn't know much about Aeryc's past. He only knew that Elissa had met him as the first of her recruits as she journeyed to Vigil's Keep, but he had often wondered about him. It was true there was something ruthless—even unnerving—about Aeryc. Everything about him was so quiet—his movements and voice and smile, like his entire being had been muted into a shadow of whatever it had once been. Yet Alistair had seen him handle Daniel with utmost care, taking to the boy with the air of someone accustomed to children and their demands. There was an unspoken agreement in the Grey Wardens that a man's past was his own to tell and so Alistair hadn't pried, but he couldn't help but be curious.

The fight was reaching its climax, Elissa and Aeryc trading blows and ducking swings with impressive speed. Sweat poured down their faces and threatened to blind them, but neither dared take their eyes off the other. All at once Elissa lunged and spun around, her leg cleanly sweeping Aeryc off his feet and sending him flat on his back in the sand. A roar of cheers and catcalls rose from the watching crowd. Alistair chuckled to himself while Teagan and Maryn clapped appreciatively. "Dirty fighter."

Apparently, Aeryc agreed, because he gave her an exasperated look that Elissa just laughed at before she offered him a hand up. The two made their way over to where Alistair was, and he saw the way she pulled her long braid away from her neck and wiped her face with her sleeve, a woman far removed from the sheltered noble daughter he had traveled with, when she was prim and proper and even a little squeamish.

She had been forced to get over that attitude remarkably fast.

Still, she offered a decent curtsey, considering she was wearing loose woolen pants, and gave Teagan an impish grin. "You wouldn't happen to know where the future arlessa flitted away to this time, would you?" she asked, still out of breath.

Teagan smiled easily. "She's in the garden, I believe. At least that was the impression I got before I was rather abruptly shoved aside for a man much more handsome than myself."

Elissa laughed. "She's already warned me once that if I so much as blink she'll steal him," she said, accepting a waterskin from Aeryc. Before she drank, she poured a bit over the cuff of her shirt to wipe her face clean, and Alistair gave a quiet huff of a laugh.

Maybe she hadn't changed so much after all.

She handed the skin back. "If you will excuse me, my lords, I'd like to track down my son before Leliana has him answering to Guerrin."

Alistair wasn't going to give her the opportunity to refuse him by asking permission to walk with her, so with a nod at Teagan and Aeryc he followed, falling into step beside her. If Elissa minded, she gave no sign of it. Maryn and Thomas were quick to come along, though they did so at a respectful distance.

He waited until they had reached the cobbled garden path and was certain they were as alone as they could be before speaking. Redcliffe's garden was small compared to the one at the palace, but he liked it there, having fond memories of spending many hours in the boughs of a willow tree that swayed in the breeze over a small, still pond. The garden was carefully tended to look wild; shrubs and ivy and climbing roses in full bloom crept along low stone walls that crossed in every direction along numerous paths, all of which led to the tree in the center.

"Elissa," he said, and she paused to give him her attention. "I know you said we had to speak alone, but I have to know what danger the darkspawn are presenting to Redcliffe. Teagan has to know how to defend his lands if they're threatened."

"I don't _think_ they are," she said, her eyebrows drawn together in thought, "but you're right enough." Her voice was low and rich, sparking Alistair's already active awareness of how near she was standing to him to avoid being overheard. Next to her skill it was her voice that had so ensnared him, dark and mysterious to a chantry boy with next to no knowledge of women. He remembered that voice whispering to him in the still of the night, and for a moment it was difficult to breathe.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, her eyes settling on a small, moss-covered statue of a snarling dragon that sat proudly at the end of one of the stone hedges. She thought something through, then drew a deep breath and said, "I have to go to the neighboring village this afternoon on a Warden matter, but maybe we could speak tonight? I've been meaning to get a private word with you for… well, a long time."

Alistair recalled the last time he had seen her in Denerim. She had worn the same uncomfortable, almost nervous expression then that was trying to seep through now. He remembered the meeting clearly, but had simply assumed, after no word from her, that she had changed her mind. "You mentioned that last summer. I thought you had forgotten."

She laughed, but there was an edge to it. "No, I haven't forgotten. I was on my way to Weisshaupt."

"I see." She might have mentioned that _then_. "Well, it may be a bit difficult here. Half of the court has already arrived, and trust me, they're not above eavesdropping. You said before you wanted a private audience—"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "Not an audience. I need to talk to you. _Just _you. And I'd really prefer to get away from here, if you can manage it. I'll understand if you can't, but…"

He hoped his expression didn't give away just how appealing that sounded. He glanced over at Maryn, hoping he hadn't overheard, but he was clearly not listening. Alistair lowered his voice, anyway, just to be sure. "I'm sure can figure out something. I have some experience with ducking guards when I need—oh, _damn it all_."

Before Elissa had a chance to object, he pulled her off the path and ducked behind an ivy covered wall, tugging her along with him. "Maryn," he said as loudly as he dared, gesturing towards a pair of giggling girls strolling down the hallway they had just left. Maryn sighed with long suffering patience and moved to lean against the stone wall opposite them.

Elissa looked at Alistair quizzically. He put a finger to his lips to beg for silence. Curiously, she glanced around the corner of their cover, and he heard the soft chuckle.

"Are you hiding from those girls?"

"Shh! They'll hear you."

"Since when are you afraid of—?"

He didn't let her finish, holding her so that her back was pressed against his front and clapping a hand over her mouth. She was laughing at him, curse her, shaking with silent mirth while he shoved himself as far against the wall as he could. He was suddenly, painfully aware of how long it had been since he had a woman pressed up against him, this woman in particular, and had to force the thought out of his mind before the situation became more uncomfortable than it already was.

Lyra, the oldest daughter of Royce, soon came into view, accompanied by another girl he had never seen before. Lyra was twenty-one that year, blond and absolutely stunning in a gown of deep blue, cut low in the front to display more of her charms than was strictly necessary. She was known for being vivacious, if a bit spoiled, and, Alistair had discovered, dumb as dirt.

The pair paused at the sight of the captain, and Alistair imagined Lyra's wide blue eyes darting about suspiciously. She was clearly on the prowl. Both girls began to whisper between themselves, standing directly next to his hiding place. Alistair sank a bit further back into the ivy, grimacing.

"I swear I saw him come this way," Lyra whispered, disappointed. "That's the captain of his guard. He has to be here somewhere."

"Right, he must be hiding in the bushes," the other girl said sarcastically, and Elissa's muted laughter increased. A small sound escaped around where his hand still covered her mouth and he held his finger to his lips again, pleading.

Lyra was pouting—he could hear it in her voice even if her back was to him. "Maybe he's with the Orlesian? I saw her by the pond. Everyone thinks they used to be friends."

"They _are_ friends. He's at her wedding, isn't he?"

"He's here because Arl Teagan is an important man. The king knows better than to get roped in by some _Orlesian_."

Elissa went suddenly, dangerously still, and without conscious thought, he tightened his hold on her.

"Lyra, did you even notice who he was with?" The friend's voice was ripe with exasperation. "That was the Hero of Ferelden. Everyone knows about them. Let's just… go back inside."

Lyra made a scoffing sound, flipping a golden, curly lock of hair back over her shoulder. "My da says that story is rubbish—bards prettying up a tale with romance because every story needs it. If it were true he would have married her, wouldn't he? She _is_ a Cousland."

Maker, it couldn't get any worse, could it? He was going to kill Leliana. But Elissa was smiling—he could feel it beneath his hand, even if she shifted slightly in discomfort, unwittingly pressing some of her curves into parts of him that had been living without attention for a long time.

Her nearness was becoming really difficult to ignore.

The younger of the two seemed unconvinced. "I don't know, Lyra. Lady Allison is the only one he's ever been seen with, and neither of them seemed very heartbroken when it ended. He even went to her wedding. He hasn't really shown an interest in _anyone_ in all this time. There has to be some reason for it. I think you should leave him alone."

Good girl. He agreed completely.

"I don't think it has anything to do with some _woman_," Lyra said scathingly. "Allison would have made a fool out of him, mooning over Tristan the way she was. It's far more likely he doesn't lean that way, if you catch my meaning."

Elissa clapped both her hands over the one covering her mouth and nearly doubled over, positively elated to have been witness to that remark. Alistair closed his eyes and swallowed a groan, though he wasn't sure if it came more from mortification or the abrupt feel of her hips melding against him.

He should have known that rumor would crop up eventually.

"Then why are we even looking for him?" the girl asked in annoyance, and Alistair was ridiculously grateful that at least one of them seemed to have some common sense. Maybe he wouldn't have to spend an obscene amount of time avoiding her.

"He still has to get married, you nit. Come on—maybe he went to the yard."

Alistair waited until the captain called out an unmistakably dry, "I believe the danger has passed, Your Majesty," before he straightened up from the hiding place, dropping his hand from Elissa's mouth. She promptly collapsed against his shoulder, racked through with laughter.

"I'm glad you find this so entertaining," he said, but he couldn't quite keep the smile from his face. He hadn't seen Elissa so comfortable with him in years. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, and for once she didn't fight to put some distance between them.

"You were hiding from little girls," she choked out between giggles. "What part of that am I not supposed to find funny?" She wiped the mirth from her eyes, gasping. "Girls who think—"

"Not another word," he said, and she collapsed into giggles again.

"I'm sorry," she said eventually, though her sparkling eyes indicated she was anything but. "I guess it's not as funny for you."

"I just wish they wouldn't follow me around like that," he groused, his mind and body both aware when she stepped away from him and he was out of excuses to keep his arm around her. "And for some reason, they seem to keep getting younger. How old was that other one, anyway? Sixteen?"

"Eighteen, actually. Her name is Vivian. She's the oldest daughter of Bann Wulfric. I believe you know him?"

"Fergus has brought him to Denerim once or twice. One of your brother's vassals, isn't he?"

"He is, and a valuable one. He's a good, honest man, and Vivian has got that strong core of common sense we country girls like to brag about. I rather like her. She's just young, is all." She was quiet for a long time, once again looking at the ground while they walked slowly towards the center of the garden. "Alistair?" She sounded hesitant, and he got the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like what was coming. "Do you mind if I ask you something horribly inappropriate and intensely personal?"

"I haven't gotten around to it yet," he said before she could ask, fully aware of what she wanted to know.

She nodded slowly, still not looking at him. "Your advisors must be pressing the issue?"

"Always. I'm sure they'll die pressing the issue. Their final words will be saved to release a last bout of nagging at their irresponsible king. It doesn't change anything."

She frowned at the ground. "Do you never plan to marry?"

He dragged a hand over his face, more irritated with Lyra than usual for putting him in this position. "Why do you want to know?"

"I..." She hesitated, biting her lip. "I don't like the idea of you alone, I suppose."

The answer annoyed him more than it should have. "I'm not exactly miserable. I mean, I was less than happy at first, being dumped onto the throne without an idea of what to do there, but I got over it. Don't waste any of your time worrying about me."

He had hurt her. He could feel it like a change in the air, even though her expression didn't falter. Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself. _Very, very nice. You were the one who left _her_, you jackass._

"Elissa," he said after a bit, and gently reached out to catch her chin with his fingertips so she'd look at him. Her expression confirmed his suspicion, a shuttered mask firmly in place to hide the way his words had stung her. He didn't think he could feel more wretched then he did just then. "I'm sorry. I am. It's just… too hard, to talk to you about this. I have my limits."

At first she didn't answer, but with a soft sigh, the mask fell away, leaving melancholy that he was bitterly familiar with behind. "I suppose you do."

They heard Leliana before they saw her. She was humming softly, her clear voice rippling like water, rising and falling in what sounded like a lullaby. She was sitting in the shade of the willow tree on the banks of the pond, her dresses hiked up to allow her to kneel in the grass despite the available benches. Daniel was lying with his head in her lap while her fingers ran delicately through his dark, wavy hair.

Alistair was less pleased to see that Zevran was with her, lounging in the grass with his head pillowed by his arms, his eyes closed as he listened to Leliana's improvised tune.

Daniel looked up at his mother and smiled drowsily when she knelt beside them. "Leliana was telling me stories." He sat up, rubbing one eye with the palm of his hand.

"She's very good at that," Elissa said while he climbed into her lap and rested his head on her shoulder. "Which ones?"

"The Ballad of the Grey," he answered, yawning, and Alistair nearly choked.

"_What_?"

"I may have omitted some details," Leliana said, her eyes sparkling with too much innocence to be believable. "Names, places—he would find all those things boring, no doubt." She smiled brightly under the king's glare.

Elissa seemed to find this amusing, but didn't comment. Instead, she looked at Zevran. "Are you coming with us?"

"I am," he answered. "This potential is an archer, no? It makes me curious."

"Where is it you're going?" Alistair asked, remembering their conversation before it had been embarrassingly interrupted.

"Recruiting. Teagan told us of a young woman in the village across the river that impressed him greatly. Apparently she's been living in the Chantry since the Blight, after her family was killed." She glanced up at him. "You're welcome to join us of course, Your Majesty."

This was one thing Elissa had always been generous about, keeping him involved in her building of the Wardens. Years ago, he had realized that no matter what else had happened, no matter how much she would have preferred to slip into obscurity, his connection with the Order had kept her in his life, distant as she was. She faithfully reported everything of interest, even if she put off writing those letters for months at a time, until some of them became frighteningly long.

She quite simply felt _guilty_ for taking him from the Grey Wardens.

"I'd be happy to," he said immediately, and didn't miss the way Zevran's eyes narrowed. Since running into each other again, the assassin seemed to hate him a touch more than usual. He wasn't going to let the wretch change his mind, though.

"Oh, I wish I could go." Leliana sighed in honest regret. "To be on the road with all of you again, even for such a short distance. It sounds like it will be fun."

"Oh yes. Fun. That is precisely what I foresee happening here," Zevran muttered. Shaking her head, Elissa stood up and gave Daniel a quick hug before he clambered back over to Leliana, dropping his small head in her lap as if he had known her his entire life.

It was amazing, the way she seemed to have that effect on people.

"He will stay with me, I think," she told Elissa. "I will be glad of the company. It is far more enjoyable than most."

"If you're sure." Elissa sounded hesitant. "He can be a bit of a handful."

"I am sure we'll be fine. It's nice to have an audience again, and he is a divine listener."

"Leliana?" Alistair waited until she looked at him. "No more ballads?"

"Perhaps we should get some warning of future stories you plan to tell the child," Zevran said, raising an eyebrow at her, though the sarcasm was definitely aimed at Alistair. "A list, maybe, that we can review and discuss like adults?"

Elissa rubbed her fingers against her temple as if she were already getting a headache. "Shut up, Zevran."

… … …

The heat broke in the afternoon when a blanket of clouds blew in from the mountains, carrying a cooling breeze that was met with a sigh of relief from the small band of travelers. Elissa rode beside Alistair, though she had been quiet thus far, deep in thought and barely aware of her surroundings.

"Do I get to ask _you_ a question?"

Her head came up quickly, as if he had startled her, and he wondered what was preying on her mind to so thoroughly capture her attention.

"What's that?" she asked, sounding wary.

"You don't usually make a habit of recruiting women." It wasn't a question, but she understood, to judge by the shadow the crossed over her features.

"I'm... not against it," she said, glancing away. He didn't press her further, though he did wonder what had changed. He remembered all too well her horror during their trek through the Deeproads, the way she had clung to him, pleading.

_Promise me that no matter what, you won't let them take me_.

He shook off the memory.

The day grew quiet under the grey canopy, the air smelling strongly of rain. The silence gathered and thickened until it became uncomfortable, each clomp of the horses' hoofs jarring like unwanted trespassers in the suffocating stillness. Alistair's skin was crawling, a pressure building across the base of his skull like someone somewhere was watching him, and with dawning realization he looked around at the other Wardens.

They felt it, too.

"Makers breath, what _is_ that?" Darren blurted, rising up in his stirrups to study the rocky terrain. His voice made all of them jump. "It's just like before, isn't it?"

Elissa and Aeryc exchanged a startled glance. "You've felt this before?"

"Just before the darkspawn attacked us," Thomas said.

Elissa reacted immediately. "Spread out! Look for any sign of life! Anything."

They made to follow the strange order without question, though it took a moment longer for Alistair to understand that he hadn't seen so much as a bird for some miles. "Do you know what this is?"

"I think so." She and Aeryc moved closer, as though to protect him. "I can't be sure, but—"

She didn't get the chance to answer. Alistair felt the sickening roll at the same time she did.

"Get into position!" Aeryc hollered, and much to his annoyance, Alistair was suddenly barricaded by a wall of Grey Wardens just as the darkspawn broke their cover. The mob was small, unorganized—nothing like they had encountered during the Blight. The Wardens cut through them relentlessly, the monster's howls and screams ripped from their throats and ringing against the rocks and cliffs like a black chorus.

Without warning the temperature plummeted, the air sparkling in a glittering, deadly array of dancing ice that threatened to encompass them all. Without hesitation, Alistair broke free of the protective mob and charged for the emissary, gathering his will and pushing it outward in an act of well-practiced concentration. The spell died instantly, and the monster stumbled, dazed, unable to recover before Alistair rode past, bringing his sword up to cleave its head from its shoulders. He jerked his horse around and returned to the fray.

The fight was over in a matter of minutes, and Elissa climbed from her saddle and knelt down beside the emissary, her expression grim as she wiped the blood from her face. Alistair realized with a jolt that it wasn't darkspawn blood; a blow had split her forehead open, deep and ragged. Without thinking he dropped beside her and tilted her face towards him.

"It's fine." Despite the terseness of the words, she didn't jerk free.

"You need a healer," he said, and she batted his hand away.

"It can wait." Her eyes narrowed on him. "And what did you think you were doing? We had you covered. Your only job was to stay put. You can't go charging into danger like that."

"Next time I'll just sit on my ass while we all become so many Warden-sicles," he snapped back. "Who was going to dispel that blizzard? You?"

"That's not the point!" She glowered. "You could have dispelled it from where you were. You just wanted to get into the fight."

"You're damn right I did!"

"Excuse me," Zevran said loudly to interrupt. "I do hate to break up this heartwarming habit you two have of quarreling over insignificant things, but our troubles are not yet over."

Alistair took his irate focus off of Elissa long enough to see that the others were still poised and ready, their swords drawn. The silence hadn't faded like it had the last time. The unnatural stillness closed in around them, and he slowly got to his feet, Elissa beside him, their argument forgotten. He stepped closer to her, old instincts rising to protect her from unseen danger. There was no sound, save for the crunch of the gravel beneath boots as the others shifted restlessly, their labored breathing from the exertion battle.

He wasn't the only one who jumped when the wolf broke cover only a few feet in front of him, leaping out from behind a boulder and landing with its feet spread. It growled menacingly, its hackles raised and its mouth open in a snarl. For an instant, it paused, and Alistair discovered in some confusion that it was riveted solely on him. Before he could make any sense of it, the wolf galloped for the stream, deliberately giving him wide berth as it passed.

"Aeryc!" Elissa yelled, and it was an order. Alistair felt a familiar burst of will being channeled towards the fleeing animal, and the air crackled with the shattering of magic. The wolf was thrown to its side with a yelp, and quite suddenly it wasn't a wolf anymore, but a woman. She was dressed in a collection of animal skins, her ebony hair sprawled out in the dirt. She was stunned, gasping like the breath had been knocked from her.

Alistair knew how she felt. His heart seemed to freeze in his chest, and he involuntarily took a step back, sure this had to be some sort of nightmare. The world lurched and spun, and Zevran caught his arm, the assassin's expression grim as he stared at the woman in the dirt with burning eyes.

Elissa knelt beside her, her smile hard and frightening. "Why, hello, Morrigan."


	8. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

**Chapter Seven**

_**Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered**_

.

_When happily ever after fails_

_And we've been poisoned by these fairytales_

_~ Don Henley_

.

.

Morrigan stared at Elissa, her piercing gaze searching. Elissa didn't know what she was looking for, and didn't care. She had suspected Morrigan had returned to Ferelden since reaching Ostagar, but she had never believed that she would actually risk getting near Alistair, would put him in danger without even letting him know it. She could feel her anger at the witch rise in her throat, and she leaned forward, fighting to keep her voice even. "Where is he?"

Morrigan's eyes narrowed and she struggled to rise, refusing to answer. For the first time, Elissa noticed the woman's appearance. Her eyes were shadowed by dark circles, her skin even paler than Elissa remembered, and she was far too thin. She shoved herself up, bracing herself on shaking arms, still weak from the attack. Numerous bruises marred her skin. Her hair was loose and wild around her, an ebony curtain concealing her face.

"Where is he, Morrigan?" Elissa asked again, battling with old feelings of concern and friendship that felt like strangers now in the witch's presence, but her anger was ebbing away, leaving cold dread in its place.

Morrigan remained silent, breathing heavily. She grappled for control of her body and nearly fell. A stray breeze shifted the ebony tresses away from her face, revealing a brow crinkled in concentration, her lips moving silently.

Zevran and Alistair dove out of the way simultaneously. "Look out!"

It only took a split second before the spell hit them, slamming into Elissa and Aeryc and hurling them back. Lightning arced over their armor, twining across the silver rings before engulfing the oncoming Wardens in a storm of electricity. Elissa's nerves jumped and burned, and she could not keep a cry from escaping her as the magic pumped molten lava through her veins.

Zevran leapt over her quivering form, swinging his arm in one fluid motion to catch Morrigan across the face with the pummel of his dagger. Alistair's smite hit her hard and she crumpled, a pained gasp escaping her. Alistair was unmoved by the sound, furious as he stalked towards them.

"You've gotten stronger, witch," he said, pulling Elissa to her feet before protectively pushing her behind him. Morrigan raised her eyes, seething and defiant still, even though she lay at his feet. "Too bad you didn't check to make sure I was in the range of that little light display, isn't it? Watch her," he said to Maryn. "If she so much as _breathes_ funny, run her through."

Maryn looked only too happy to obey that order, resting the point of his sword in the dirt beside Morrigan's head. Alistair turned his attention back to Elissa, who was staggering, her muscles tense and twitching. He caught her when she stumbled.

"Don't..." Elissa gasped, grimaced, the effects of the spell leaving her words slurred and broken. "Don't kill her."

"And why not?" Zevran asked, and Alistair frowned like he agreed. "I believe she nearly offered you the same welcome."

"She… was trying to run," she got out, trying to shake off the aftermath of being electrocuted.

"Yes, after her darkspawn did not do the job." Zevran scowled. "And what do you do? You surround her like so many inexperienced bullies." He shook his head in disgust. "Really, Elissa, the first rule of facing a caster is to spread out, no? Let us not make it too easy for her, now."

"Morrigan isn't commanding the darkspawn," Elissa said with more clarity than before, the magic surrendering control back to her in small degrees. "She's running from them."

That statement was met with absolute silence. Elissa didn't bother to explain further, kneeling down beside Morrigan again. The other woman backed away, distrust evident in every line. "Tell me where he is," Elissa said, softer now. "I can't help you otherwise."

Elissa saw the battle that briefly took place behind the woman's eyes before she relented, fighting the urge to hurl the offer of help back in Elissa's face against her own desperation. "I told him to run," she said at last. "He knows where to go if I am caught."

Alistair made a small noise in the back of his throat. Elissa's eyes darted up at him, pleading—warning. The others didn't know. He couldn't let them know. His own eyes were wide and horrified as he sank to his knees beside her.

"Get back, Your Majesty," Maryn said. "She may have some magic left yet."

"She doesn't," Alistair answered, his voice hollow. Morrigan glared at him again. Alistair dragged his eyes up to his captain, and Elissa was a little shocked at how adept he had become at hiding what he was feeling. She could read nothing of his expression as he looked at the captain. "She's drained. Aeryc and I are more than capable of keeping her that way."

Morrigan hissed and tried to get up again, but Alistair caught her arm and hauled her back down, a sharp, dangerous smile replacing the careful impassivity. "Oh, no." He laughed, and the sound raised the hair on the back of Elissa's neck. "You're not going anywhere this time, you crazy bitch."

"Alistair," she said softly, and his eyes darted to hers, wild and frightened. She only looked at him, pleading, and he hauled in a deep breath, steadying himself.

"Is it the song?" Elissa asked, turning back to Morrigan. "Is that what's calling them?

"Hey, it stopped," Darren said suddenly. He whirled around, looking in every direction like he expected something to leap out at them from nowhere. "When did it stop?"

"When did _what_ stop?" Alistair snapped.

"That creepy song. Didn't you hear it? I thought you did."

"I didn't hear anything. Everything just went quiet."

Elissa exchanged a quick glance with him, dawning understanding passing between both of them. "You must be immune," she whispered, so low only Morrigan would hear them. He only looked more agitated then before.

She got to her feet, brushing off her hands. "Thomas, take the others to the village and see to this potential recruit. Aeryc and I will deal with this."

Thomas hesitated, but practiced years of following orders was no easy thing to overthrow. With a curt nod, he began organizing the rest of the Wardens, soon leaving only the four old companions and Aeryc and Maryn behind.

Alistair was staring at Aeryc, his expression once again unreadable. "You know, too?"

Aeryc nodded. "Elissa needed another Grey Warden on her side in Weisshaupt, Your Majesty. The council can be very… intimidating. They aren't happy they haven't received the answers they wanted."

Alistair couldn't quite hide his wince.

"All right then, Morrigan, we are all friends now," Zevran said lightly, but his knuckles were white around the hilts of his daggers. "Tell the nice lady where the boy is."

"I already told you," she said, rising to her hands and knees. "Did you think I would be so foolish as to leave his protection to all of you? He's far safer on his own."

"Oh, yes, because he's like _five_," Alistair said. "Are you insane?" He shook his head. "You know what? Don't even answer that. Just tell us why you're here."

Morrigan finally got to her feet, her back straight and her head high, regarding him with cool disdain. "The darkspawn. They found us. The boy can defend himself against all but them. Is that sufficient enough explanation for you?"

"Oh yes, it's all falling into place. Of course, that place is nowhere near _this_ place."

"Try for a moment to think like she does," Elissa said, but Alistair cut her off.

"Never, and nothing you can say will make me."

She sighed and turned in a slow circle, her hands gripping her braid at the base of her neck. "Is it the song, Morrigan?"

For the briefest of moments, a hint of fear flitted across Morrigan's face. It was gone so quickly Elissa wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it. "It calls to them," she said, and her voice quivered ever so slightly. "I hid him, protected him, but they found us."

"Didn't your mother take that into consideration?" Elissa asked, growing angry again. She didn't believe for an instant Flemeth would be so short sighted. "She must have set up some precautions against them."

"There is... a ritual. I can silence the song."

Alistair began to laugh, high and hysterical. "A ritual. _Fantastic_. Because those work out _so_ well. Can we kill her now?"

"Alistair!" Elissa snapped, her nerves long past overwrought. "You're not helping."

"I'm not really trying to help, thanks." At her angry look he coughed and swallowed, choking off the ghastly mirth. "Fine. A ritual. Why haven't you done it before now?"

"It is an old ritual," Morrigan said. "I lack all the proper components."

"Oh, this should be _rich_. What components are you lacking, then?"

Morrigan crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I require a vial of your blood."

He began to laugh again. "Oh, no. You're not getting any more fluids out of _me_, woman."

With a growl Elissa grabbed his arm and yanked him aside, keeping her voice low. "You need to pull yourself together."

"Do I?" He looked briefly furious, and she had to resist the urge to take a step back away from him, unsure. "Is this what you've been keeping from me? Because I have to tell you, I really would have preferred knowing something about this before she up and appeared on the road."

"I was going to tell you—" she said, but he shook his head and cut her off.

"You know what, Elissa? I'm pretty much done hearing your excuses at this point." He spoke calmly, quietly, but his eyes were colder than she had ever seen them and something in her tore and bled under the icy gaze. "You should have taken me to Weisshaupt. You should have told me that you suspected what was going on as soon as you suspected it. And you should have told me that Morrigan and her demon bastard were stalking me!"

"I didn't know—"

"_Don't_." His tone was harsh and unyielding, and she flinched. "How did you know it was a boy?"

She started, felt her eyes go wide and she looked up in the face of his anger with cold fear shivering down her skin, making tiny bumps appear in its wake. "You've been in contact with her," he said. "Why else would Aeryc be trained as a templar? You knew all along that this was a possibility. You _knew_ she would come _back_."

She didn't have an answer for that. Her silence was all he needed, and she could see the way his anger drained away. He slumped without it to sustain him, sadness and the sting of betrayal evident in every line of his face.

"I can't..." He didn't finish, and his head dropped as he turned away from her.

"Alistair..."

"Just... keep her away from me," he muttered as he walked away from her, and Elissa felt the hollow pit in her stomach sap the rest of her strength.

The statement was meant for her as much as Morrigan.

… … …

Elissa sighed and curled into a ball, her knees drawn to her chest and her head lowered. She didn't know how long she had been sitting that way, but the room had grown cool and dark around her. Getting up to light the lanterns just didn't seem worth the effort. Daniel was sound asleep, worn out by his busy day with Leliana. She didn't doubt he'd sleep through until morning.

She shivered, aware that on top of all the complications she'd managed to create over the years, things had just gotten worse. She was so aware of it that it hurt—her head was pounding and the pain spilled down her spine, tightening the muscles in her back until they ached.

Why did she ever come back?

It had been tempting, oh so tempting to stay in Weisshaupt and serve the Wardens, to try to forget Ferelden and the Blight and all it had brought with it—beginning with the country's current ruler and the shades of guilt that stabbed at her heart and dissolved her will whenever she saw him. She had done this to him, put him in this horrible position, and he didn't deserve it.

And he still didn't know the worst thing she'd done to him.

She curled tighter.

There was a soft knock at her door, and she wasn't surprised when Aeryc came in without waiting for a response. He didn't speak until he was sitting at the edge of her bed, reaching out to settle his hand on her knee. "How are you holding up?"

"Better than Alistair, I expect," she said without looking up, the words weak and muffled.

He sighed. "I'd imagine that's true. Poor bastard."

She finally sat up, wiping her eyes and smoothing her hair back. "Where's Morrigan?"

"She's been given a chamber. I put Devin and Thomas on guard outside the door."

Elissa shook her head. "Alistair is the best templar I know, next to you, and even he has trouble handling Morrigan. She'll eat Devin alive," she said. "Possibly literally."

He smiled, quiet as always, and the sight had the same soothing effect on her it always did. "She's weak, Liss. She's been running for a long, long time, I think. Devin can keep her on a leash for one night." He hesitated, his hand sliding off her knee to rest on the blanket. "She wants to see you."

Elissa hadn't really expected otherwise. She drew in a deep breath, hoping that it would calm her prickling nerves, but it didn't really help and the tightness in her back only intensified. "All right, let's go see her."

Aeryc nodded and offered her his hand. She clung to it, grasping his strong fingers as if she could draw some of his strength into herself. Ever since finding him on the roads to Amaranthine, broken and longing for death, he had been her rock, the one person she could always turn to no matter what the situation. Together, he and Elissa and Jaedan had been like family, three people who couldn't be more different from each other but fit well, like missing pieces to a larger puzzle.

_Now if only Jaedan was still here_, she thought, and her throat tightened, hot and aching.

… … …

For a long time, the two women only stared at each other. In the dancing glow cast by the candles, Morrigan looked even wearier than she had on the road, her eyes rimmed with red and her face gaunt. She'd apparently had time to clean herself up. Her hair was shining like a raven's wing and pulled up out of her face, but the signs of exhaustion were still evident in every small, muted gesture.

Elissa couldn't think of a single thing to say to her. She had loved this woman, once, before the truth of her presence had been revealed. Before she had dangled Elissa's life in front of Alistair's frantic eyes, used it as bait to draw him into her web, and into her bed. Elissa carried the guilt of the ritual for all these years, knowing she was as much to blame as Morrigan. She should never have told him of the offer, should have turned it down and taken the secret to her grave. But she had been young and frightened, and didn't want to _die_.

Her life as a Cousland had dimmed from her mind until sometimes it felt like it was a passing dream. She was only a Grey Warden now. The ritual had corrupted that existence, shadowing it with a constant gnawing memory that would never fade, never supply the closure she had so desperately needed after the Blight.

She was haunted by the knowledge that she failed.

"You promised I wouldn't have to see you again," Elissa said finally, brushing aside the awful silence that hung between them like a shroud.

Morrigan remained guarded, impassive. There was a faint struggle in her eyes before she lifted her chin and said, "I had nowhere else to go."

Elissa didn't know what to say to that, so said nothing.

Morrigan leaned her head against the wall, deflating. "I had not realized that you still hated me."

Elissa released a long breath, looking out the window as the sky deepened and the stars began to appear. "I don't hate you." She sighed at the truth of it. "But… I can't forgive you, either."

"The act was not—"

"I'm not talking about that," Elissa said quickly, completely unwilling to hear any details about that night.

Morrigan crossed her arms, and there was a glow in her cat-like eyes that whispered a warning down Elissa's spine. "Do you regret being alive?"

"Are you asking me if I regret having failed in my duty as a Warden? If I think now that it was selfish to risk so much just so I wouldn't die?" She stared into Morrigan's eyes, unflinching. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

"You have your son."

"I do." She paused. "For _him_, I'm grateful. He's the only reason I didn't turn myself in to the council a long time ago." She sighed again and scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. "What are we going to do about _your_ son?"

Morrigan looked away. "He should be fine, for a time. He is... formidable."

Elissa didn't like the sound of that at all. "What about the darkspawn?"

"They chase him blindly. It takes several days for another group to find him after we dispatch those who have already caught the trail."

"I need to know what is happening here, Morrigan."

Morrigan looked down, running her fingers along the frayed hem of her tunic. "The song calls to them, as it did when he slumbered beneath the earth. They are drawn to it. It took them some time to find him, to come for him. There is one particular cave, near Highever, where they seem to come from. I must have... grown careless, in that area."

"How?" Elissa asked quietly.

"All this time, I have been careful to keep him away from them until I could determine a way to perform the ritual and silence the siren's call. I do not know how they found me."

"And if they find him?" Elissa asked, terrified she already knew the answer.

Morrigan met her gaze. "They will do all in their power to Taint him."

Elissa closed her eyes. She suddenly she felt heavier, as if she had physically picked up a new burden. It felt so familiar, too familiar, like the weight she had carried during the Blight. She gritted her teeth against it.

"So we have to keep him safe, then," she said, trying to make it sound like a simple matter instead of her greatest fear coming to fruition. "Could you find this cave if you needed to?"

"I believe so."

"Good. The first thing you will do is stop hiding behind Alistair." At Morrigan's startled look she forced out a wry smile. "What better place to hide from the darkspawn then behind a Grey Warden? You knew he wouldn't hear him, didn't you?"

Morrigan did not answer.

"And you won't bring him here," she said, and though her pride snarled in objection she tried to make it sound like the demands of a jealous ex-lover to conceal the dread that crawled through her skin at the thought of Alistair seeing the boy. "I'll do what I can to help you, but you can't bring him here."

Morrigan wasn't fooled. "What is it that you fear, I wonder?" she asked of herself, eyes narrowing on the woman who was once her only friend.

Elissa was quick to look away before she saw too much. "I have a wedding to attend tomorrow," she said, abruptly getting to her feet. "You're free to go in the morning. Take your son to Vigil's Keep. He'll be safe there until we can figure out what to do about this. I'll help you, Morrigan, but only because I can't risk the darkspawn getting a hold of him."

Morrigan's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she nodded slowly in agreement. "Very well."

… … …

Leliana was in Elissa's room when she returned. She waited in the outer chamber, curled in a comfortable chair and flipping through the pages of a book.

"Don't you have a wedding tomorrow?" Elissa asked, forcing a smile. "You should be sleeping."

"Oh, it's not so late," Leliana answered, carefully setting the book aside. "And I am not nearly as weary as you, I think. You're going to end up puffy-eyed, and then I will have to be very upset with you, after all I have done to find you the perfect dress."

Elissa sat down in the chair beside her. "I'm so sorry for all of this. If I had known this would happen I wouldn't have come."

"You are my friend, Elissa." Leliana smiled softly. "Never would I begrudge you help when it's needed. And besides," her smile brightened, "I would be quite foolish not to have expected excitement when you returned, no? It's part of your charm."

Elissa laughed, running a hand over her face. "Is Daniel still asleep?"

"Oh, yes. Soft and sweet as an angel. He's a beautiful child, Elissa." She poured a glass of wine from the decanter that had been on Elissa's table when she arrived and handed it to her before pouring another for herself. "He looks very much like his father." The wine in her glass trembled and Elissa nearly choked. Leliana calmly took a sip from her own glass. "I am not so blind as our dear Alistair. I knew the moment I saw him." She paused, running a long, delicate finger around the edge of the glass. "Why have you not told him?"

"I don't know," she said, completely miserable, and pulled her legs up into the chair. "I tried to at first, but my letters went unanswered. I realized later that those jackals he surrounds himself with were probably keeping them from him. After all, they were happy to see me go. After that..." She ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know. It just seemed like it had been so long. It was too hard."

Leliana nodded thoughtfully. "I understand your trepidation, but if you are waiting for the time when he will not be angry, when you will not have to do what you should have done years ago and scream this out once and for all, it will never come. He has every right to be very cross with you."

"I know," she said, setting her glass down so she could curl her arms around her knees. "You don't know how much I know."

Leliana's eyes were soft and sympathetic. "I love you, Elissa, and I always will, but no matter what happened between you and Alistair, he has the right to know he has a child. I will give you time to decide the best way to tell him, but if you do not, I will have to. It is too cruel to keep it from him any longer."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that, Leliana." The fury in the voice was apparent even before she saw him and Elissa's heart stuttered in her chest, freezing her blood. Alistair was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his eyes blazing. The room went completely, utterly silent as he stalked towards her, more furious than she had ever seen him. "_Why didn't you tell me_?"


	9. Tough Love

**Chapter Eight**

_**Tough Love**_

_._

"_You're _not_ friends. You'll _never_ be friends. You'll be in love until it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other 'til it makes you quiver, but you'll never be _friends_."_

_~BTVS_

_._

_._

Alistair had never been so aware of how many things he could feel at once, each emotion battling for control only to give way to the next as his thoughts dove and scattered, possibilities and accusations spiraling until he wasn't sure which to hold on to. The shock of Leliana's words still had not settled into fact, the concept that Daniel... it was too foreign to wrap his head around. He knew the combination was making him truly dangerous, but that it was all aimed at Elissa—_Elissa_—gave the scene in the chamber a dreamlike quality that made it hard to think. He could hear the cutting edge in his own voice as he stared down at her, her blue eyes wide in shock.

"Well?" he asked, his fists clenched so tight they were past hurting. "I'm dying to hear the Elissa logic behind this one."

"No!" Leliana said and jumped up, grasping Elissa's hand to drag her out of the chair. Elissa didn't even resist; she still looked too stunned to care she was being herded. "No—you will _not_ do this here, not where Daniel may wake up and hear you."

"Fine. Where would you suggest? Is there a chamber set aside for screaming?" Alistair kept his eyes glued to Elissa, even when Leliana began pushing him out the door. His vision was bright and sharp in his rage, calculating every flick of her eyes, and so he saw when her stubborn defenses awakened, when her spine stiffened and her eyes flashed before resting accusingly on Leliana.

"There's no way he snuck up on you. You knew he was there, didn't you?"

"I do not make it a habit of listening particularly closely when I am in the safety of my own home," Leliana answered, shoving them both into the hall and closing the door behind her. "And you agreed to tell him, yes?"

The thought did nothing to temper his anger. Alistair reached out and grabbed Elissa's wrist, yanking her around to force her to look at him. "Is this why you and Morrigan have stayed in contact?" She jerked free of his hold with a twist of her wrist and shoved him back. He barely noticed. "Comparing notes, were you?"

"_Alistair_!" Leliana scolded, putting her hand on his chest and pushing as she tried to maneuver him into the room across the hall.

"I needed her." Elissa's voice was low and tight, refusing to give him even the satisfaction of screaming at him. "You have no idea what it was like—"

He reached out and caught her shoulders, dragging her near enough that she had to tilt her head to look at him. "Trust me, Elissa," he warned quietly, "right now the _last_ thing you want to be doing is pointing out things I didn't know."

Leliana stepped between them to force them apart before gripping Alistair's arm to turn him and push him towards the room while she tugged Elissa along behind her. Maryn, Thomas and Darren all jumped up at the unexpected sight of their king being manhandled by the bard.

"Your Majesty, what—?"

"It's fine," Leliana said, panting, and released Alistair to dedicate both hands to dragging Elissa, who seemed more reluctant to comply once she realized they were in Alistair's room. "There is nothing to worry yourselves over."

"What were you doing, eavesdropping?" Elissa glowered at Alistair, her focus on him ruling out anyone else in the room. "I thought you _ordered_ me to stay away from you."

He felt his eyes widen at the sheer ridiculousness of that reply, leaving him so incredulous he forgot for a second he was furious with her. "Oh, because this is entirely _my_ fault!" he shouted, regaining momentum. "I'm so sorry that was coming to _apologize_, and instead I overheard that you were _keeping my son from me_!"

There was a stunned silence, before Darren hurriedly got to his feet. "I think that's our cue to leave."

"I'm not doing this in front of your watchdogs," Elissa said through clenched teeth. Alistair wanted to snarl that she wasn't going anywhere no matter _who_ was in the room, but if there was ever a time for them to do this, it was now, and he was sick to his soul of her holding out on him.

"Get out," he said over his shoulder.

Maryn hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of leaving him alone in the room with a furious woman who was reputably quite capable of harming him. "Your Majesty, please—"

"I said _get out_!"

"Alistair—" Leliana tried to begin as his guards scurried past her, but he didn't want to hear anything from her, either.

"Did Jaedan know?" He gripped the back of a chair to keep himself from reaching out and shaking Elissa. For a blink of an eye, he saw the pain flash across her features, quickly replaced with rage. The rational part of him, cowed and nearly silent in the corner of his mind, objected that he was being cruel, but he had spent too many years pretending Jaedan didn't awaken something ugly and raging and _jealous_ in him. He didn't know why it still hurt, only that it did, and he was in no condition to pretend otherwise. "Did he know that Daniel was _my_ son while you were busy tangling his sheets for him?"

"How _dare_ you, you bastard," she said, her arms rigid at her sides and her hands curled into fists. "You think that I went around trying to find someone to manipulate into raising my son? Sorry, but we've been fine without you."

"Is that what you've been telling him? That I left?" Red webbed in his vision and fury swelled around the pounding blood in his ears. "Did Daniel think Jaedan was his father?" She set her mouth mulishly and his grip on the chair tightened, his knuckles going white as he resisted the urge to throw it across the room. In that moment he _hated_ her. "Did Daniel _think he was his father_, Elissa?"

"No, damn you!" she shouted at him, her eyes filling with angry tears, and some sadistic part of him rejoiced in her loss of control. "You leave Jaedan out of this! He had nothing to do with Daniel or you! Your pet mage was the one who showed up and assumed I had betrayed you somehow, and I had to just choke down her judgment of me. Jaedan was there, not you. You don't get to say anything about him!"

"So help me, Elissa, if you kept Daniel from me because of your cursed wounded pride I may very well _strangle_ you. You left Denerim without a word, carrying my son, and I want to know why!"

Elissa whirled around like she planned to storm out, but Leliana was firmly planted in front of the door.

"I will lock you both in if you force me to," she said, uncharacteristically stern. "It's long past time you both saw this finished." She opened the door and stepped out before turning back at the last moment. "To avoid bloodshed on my walls, I will say that the result of all of this is a sweet little boy, who was born because you loved each other once. Perhaps it would not be amiss to remember that?"

The door closed softly behind her.

He jerked himself around so he didn't have to look at Elissa anymore, a hundred hostilities fighting to tear through him and spill themselves all over her. One fought harder than the rest to escape, and he heard himself blurt without conscious thought, "You let me send you away." It was heavy with accusation and he wasn't surprised to hear Elissa suck in an angry breath.

"I don't remember having much say in the matter." The words were bitter, tinged with something other than anger and he glanced back to see her standing with her arms crossed, her eyes narrow slits on him.

"You stood there and listened to me go on about duty and responsibility, about the need for an heir, and you didn't say _anything_." The anger was fading and he battled to hold onto it, desperate not to give into something else that was tight and suffocating. He ran his hands through his hair and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table for support before he lifted his gaze back to her. "Were you that eager to be rid of me?"

"Because that's exactly what a woman wants to hear for a marriage proposal. 'Oh, so you're fertile after all? Never mind... you'll do.'"

He laughed, but there was nothing happy about that sound. "So let me get this straight. We talked about how making me king would make it nearly impossible for us to stay together, and you agree. I beg you _not_ to make me king, and you do it anyway, because the country is more important than us, you say. Then you find out you're pregnant, and that doesn't change anything, in your mind." He threw his hands in the air. "Oh, I see it now, this is clearly my doing! How stupid of me!"

"You don't have any idea what it was like for me!"

"You're right, I don't—because I wanted to marry you. You turned _me _down, remember?"

"I had to!"

"You didn't have to _leave_!" Old pain he had thought long dead was welling in him, and his voice was unsteady when he said, "You didn't even say goodbye. I didn't do _anything _to deserve that, Elissa."

"You told me to! I didn't know what else to do! You just disappeared after the Landsmeet!"

"Disappeared? I've been in Denerim where you left me, thank you. You're the one who spent the past five years doing everything in your power to avoid me. Not a word about anything outside of the Wardens, not so much of a 'hey, glad you're still alive.' What was I supposed to think?"

She gave him a steely glare, her eyes rimmed in red with tears she was fighting to hold back. "You told me to stay away from you. You said there was nothing left to talk about. I thought that we came to the decision together, that we would still be able to stay friends, or at least pretend to be. You didn't say two words to me after the fight with the Archdemon—you didn't even check in while I was recovering!"

"Oh yes I did! I was there the whole time. You would have known that, if you had even bothered to try."

She tossed her hair, shaking the tears out of her eyes. Alistair felt himself backpedal a step when she advanced on him. "I had no intention of going anywhere until you told me to, and then you _did_. I'm terribly, horribly sorry, _Your Majesty_, if I didn't realize that was Alistair speak for 'keep trying until I can figure out what I want!'"

The verbal arrows found their mark, and sunk deep. He recalled every word he said, the cool and distant demeanor he had to adopt so that he could deal with the separation, and something dark and twisted began to grow within him.

He laughed miserably. "Maybe I should have added a disclaimer. I just thought you mentioning that you were going to have my baby would have been _obvious_."

"I didn't know!" She seethed like he should have figured it out by now. "I was already in Amaranthine by the time I realized..." her voice trailed off and something trembled through her before her fingernails dug into her arms and she collected herself. Hurt flashed behind the anger in her eyes. "I tried to tell you."

He straightened up and stormed closer at that. "You did _not_." He struggled to control his voice over the tumult inside him and it came out in a growl. "I waited. I waited like an idiot for any sign that you wanted to see me! Instead you send a message to Wynne. Tell me where the part where you tried to tell me comes in."

"I wrote to you as well," she said, and the cold seemed to spread over her entire body, hardening her as if to shield herself from him and his nearness. He got the impression there was something he was supposed to be gathering from that bit of information.

"I watched for anything from you! Why wouldn't I..." He stopped, painful disbelief stealing the rest of the question, and he felt like a man who draws his sword with flourish only to find it broken off at the hilt. He leaned back against the table, turning his hands to grip the edge, dazed. "Eamon."

"Got there, did you?" The words were dripping with venom and he flinched in spite of himself. He didn't want to think of Elissa not being able to reach him, being turned away and treated like a problem that needed solving when she needed him. It was too much.

"I'll deal with Eamon." He was slightly calmer now, numbness settling in place of the anger, leaving him empty. "But it still doesn't explain the stack of letters of letters I have on my desk in _your_ handwriting that contain absolutely nothing about the fact that I have a son." It was the first time he'd uttered the words, and the truth struck him like a bolt of lightning.

He was a _father_.

He grappled with the knowledge, something he had always dreamed as an impossibility, his mind skittering between joy at the news, tempered by grief that he had missed so much already. From Elissa, there was only silence.

Long silence.

He finally lifted his head to look at her and for the first time, he saw guilt, thick and heavy around her. Pain began churning beneath the preferable numbness and it was evident when he demanded, "You didn't get an answer so you just gave up? Did you honestly believe I would have just abandoned you?"

"I didn't know what to think," she said, sounding strangled, and that _hurt_, worse than anything else she had said to him. "You were so different, and I got no answer, and... I don't know how many pregnant women you've had the opportunity to be around, but I wasn't thinking clearly at all..."

"No," he said, first a denial and then louder, "No. You knew me! You knew that I would never… how badly I wanted..." The storm within him reached its catalyst and he didn't know what he was trying to say. He closed his eyes and swallowed against the rising lump in his throat. "How could you _keep_ this from me?"

He was thrown completely off balance but how suddenly she changed, her grip loosening from trying to restrain herself, shifting into the stance of a person trying to hold herself together. "I'm sorry." She was going to cry, having lost her own internal battle—he could see it in the shake of her shoulders. "I was scared," she said, and it sounded like a plea. "I didn't know what to do, and then he just kept getting older and I didn't know how to tell you... I'm _so_ sorry."

She grew quiet after that, ashamed when the first real tears gathered and spilled over. She wiped at them impatiently and he turned away, shaken and confused that even after all this, he still couldn't harden himself against her. The sight of her tears still tore away at him, left him raw and needing to shoulder her pain for her.

His own guilt was palpable, because no matter how underhanded Eamon was or stubborn and selfish Elissa had been, her reluctance to come back rested solely on him. He had taken everything they were and shattered it, ground it underfoot in a desperate attempt to get her _out_, out of a heart and mind that floundered without her there to make it make sense.

He should have gone to her after the fight with the Archdemon. He should have made some effort to salvage something of what they had. Instead, he had waited for her to warm to him, stupidly accepted her cool demeanor and hoped that she would make the first move. Even after he had let her go, he had still expected her to fix it, to tell him what to do.

It was no excuse. He could argue for years that she knew better, that she was being stubborn and unreasonable by not telling Wynne the truth simply because she was mad at her, but Elissa already knew that, and he had never seen her so anguished over anything before. She was genuinely grieving that she had done this to him. He could ignore that, leave her the quivering mass before him and hand down her verdict like the king she had made him... or he could grasp this opportunity to be _Alistair_ again, to take this one last chance to try to repair what was broken between them.

One glaring fact rose above the chaos—he was tired of being angry. Over all of it. He had never stopped missing Elissa, never stopped wanting her in his life in any way he could have her, even if it meant they couldn't be together. And now… they were a family, albeit a broken one. He couldn't stand to be the one to put another crack in it.

With a deep breath like he was plunging into water, he turned around and looked at her. Her head was lowered and her body was shaking, fearful of what he would do. Cautiously, afraid she would shove him away, he slid his arms around her and drew her against him.

His forgiveness was more than Elissa could stand. She began to cry in earnest, clinging to him when it overwhelmed her and her strength abandoned her, and he sank to his knees, holding her tight against him.

"Elissa." He swallowed hard. "Don't keep him from me anymore."

"No," she managed to say around her sobs. "I never meant to. I was such a coward..."

"I find that hard to believe," he said quietly. He felt her relax against him, sniffling quietly and soaking the shoulder of his shirt with her tears.

"I should have gone to you in person," she said. "After Wynne—you know how I was back then. Stubborn. _Childish_." She drew in a ragged breath and forced herself to quit crying. "I knew, when I saw you again, I had to tell you. It's just been so..."

"Weird?" he supplied after a few seconds.

A laugh burst through her tears, and for a moment, she was just _Elissa_, a shadowed remnant of the girl she had been all those years ago, back when she needed him.

"I wasn't with Jaedan," she said unexpectedly. "At least, not then. It took years... I... I just wanted you to know, it's not like I just f-forgot..."

"It doesn't matter," he murmured, but he tightened his arms around her, and the snarling animal within him sank back into slumber and left a fragile, timid hope in its place, so delicate he was afraid to reach out and grasp it.

She hadn't forgotten him.


	10. Amends

**Chapter Nine**

_**Amends**_

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_And I forgive you_

_For being away for far too long…_

_~ Nickelback_

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The room was lit by a single candle, left burning in a glass container until it died down because, Elissa had told him, Daniel was sometimes afraid of the dark. The boy was lying on his side, small fingers curled in Aiden's fur as the mabari dozed beside him. The dog lifted its head as soon as Alistair entered. The animal's lip immediately curled, a low, warning growl rumbling deep in its chest.

"Shut it or beat it, mutt," he said, in no mood to deal with canine prejudices. Though he and Aiden had never exactly seen eye-to-eye, this continuous hostility was getting annoying. The animal tilted its head, considering, and then seemed to decide the fight wasn't worth the risk of waking up Daniel and hopped down off the bed. As it trotted past him, it tossed Alistair a rumbling huff of breath that seemed to warn him not to try anything suspicious.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, and just stopped himself from slamming the door behind the frustrating animal.

Their united efforts were wasted, however—Daniel was awake. Alistair was startled to find the wide hazel eyes fixed on him when he turned back, open curiosity shining in the childish gaze just behind a healthy dose of apprehension.

Alistair said nothing at first, instead busied himself with pulling up a stool beside the bed to give himself a moment to drink in the sight of the boy, noting simple details he had overlooked before. Daniel's dark, wavy hair was clearly Elissa's, as was the fullness of his lips and his long, slender fingers. The shape of his face, however, and those bright, familiar eyes, appearing almost gold in the dim candlelight...

Maker, how could he not have _seen_ it before?

"It's almost midnight," he said finally, fighting the urge to blurt out everything he was feeling in a wordy rush that would only overwhelm them both. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

The child didn't answer, save for the shrug of one slender shoulder, and turned his face away to gaze at the wall behind him. He had been so open and friendly up until this point that a cold trickle of dread began to dance down Alistair's spine, tingling with suspicion and guilt. "Daniel?" he asked very quietly. "You... didn't hear any of that, did you?"

"No," came the small voice at last. "Not really."

Which was still too much, Alistair was sure. With a sigh he scrubbed his face with his hands, wondering what to say. He was beginning to regret asking Elissa for this moment alone, unprepared as he was for Daniel to be awake, especially after their less-than-civilized screaming match. He was growing more certain by the moment he was going to manage to screw this up somehow.

"I'm sorry," he said, deciding honesty was generally the safest way to go. "You shouldn't have had to hear any of it. Some of that stuff was a long time in coming, and I guess we got carried away. I wouldn't like it very much if I heard someone yelling at my mother, either." Not that he'd know, of course, but trying to empathize with a four-year-old when you couldn't tell how much he understood was harder to do than it sounded.

"Mama and Aeryc yell at each other all the time," Daniel said like it was the most normal thing in the world. "But she doesn't get mad like she did with you. I can't feel it then."

The simple statement brought Alistair up short; it took a stretch of breaths for the words to sink in and reclaim meaning. "What do you mean you can't _feel_ it?"

There was a long pause. "I don't know."

No other answer appeared to be forthcoming. On impulse, Alistair reached out and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. Timidly, Daniel faced him again, rolling more fully onto his side and looking up at him with a hint of fear, like he hadn't mean to make the confession.

"Daniel? You can tell me." The words seemed ridiculous the moment they were out of his mouth—the child had absolutely no reason to trust or confide in him. He only knew him as the King of Ferelden, an object of fascination who occasionally treated him kindly. Yet Daniel looked at him curiously, appraising him with a thoroughness far too involved for someone of his age.

"Sometimes," he said, the childish voice sounding strange for the gravity behind it, "when Mama is very upset, I can feel it, too. Like when the darkspawn took Jaedan away. I was so sad, and so was she. It felt like spiders in my head. I couldn't make it stop." The last was said almost defensively, as if he were afraid he had done something wrong.

Alistair knew he should say something comforting, even wanted to, but fear clutched at his heart and froze his mouth—a paralyzing terror that was perhaps his first real experience in discovering himself to be a father.

Feeling the emotions of those around you was a sign of someone who was Tainted.

Once upon a time, he had believed he could never care for anyone as much as he did Elissa, convinced that she was the only thing under the Maker's sun that could make him break his solemn vows and risk all he was in order to see her safe.

In that brief, eternal instant, he knew better.

As he looked down at the little boy who had his eyes, all he could think is that he had to know, had to save him from the life he and Elissa had been handed in a bloody chalice. No matter the cost, there had to be someone, somewhere, who knew a way to purge his system of the poison he was born with, if that was what it was. Maybe Morrigan...

Before his thoughts had a chance to regroup and form some kind of response, Daniel was speaking again, and this time the words struck him in a way that made fear seem distant and abstract, immediate concern calling him back to his surroundings. "I can feel it when you're upset, too." The boy wasn't looking at him again, his eyes focused on his little hand curled up in the blankets.

Without thinking, Alistair got up and sat at the edge of the bed, feeling every bit as hesitant and nervous as the child appeared to be. "Daniel," he said gently, realizing he was the grown-up here and he really needed to take charge of the situation. "What did you hear tonight?"

"I heard..." He stopped and gulped, his eyes shimmering with tears, and Alistair knew the truth before he said it. "I heard Mama and Leliana talking."

It was out, and he had never wished more earnestly in his entire life that he was better at knowing what to say when it needed saying. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry, that he was never going to leave him again and generally gush until he wasn't making any sense anymore. The words burned in his throat, longing to be spilled and offer some sort of restitution for years of stubborn stupidity on _both _their parts.

Somehow, he managed to stop himself from doing just that and tried to think. Elissa and he hadn't yet gotten a chance to talk about what was to be done about this, about where the two of them would live, or how often Alistair would be able to see him. The very last thing he wanted to do now was make promises he couldn't keep.

Daniel was still struggling to speak. Whatever it was pressing on the child, it was important, if he were to judge by the furled brow and wide, hurt eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper. "You were mad."

Horror finally unlocked his tongue, and he cursed himself for not saying what he _should_ have opened with at the very beginning. "No! I mean—I was, but not because of you. Not ever because of you." He paused, a little afraid to voice the truth in a straight sentence for the first time but driven to make Daniel understand. "I... I wasn't angry to find out I was your father, Daniel—I was angry because I haven't gotten the chance to be until now. I was angry that I wasn't with you for all this time."

Again there was no answer, but the boy was still watching him, something like hope flickering behind his eyes.

"Did...?" He wasn't sure how to voice his next question without making it sound accusatory. "Has your mother ever said anything to you about me?"

"I used to ask," the child answered, studying his fingers again. "She said she would tell me when I was older. She said you had important things you had to do."

Hearing that was a little too reminiscent of an echoed whisper from his past, of being told over and over again, "_Your father is an important man, Alistair_." For a moment, his anger at Elissa bubbled up, renewed, but it was half-hearted and short lived. She couldn't know, with her own sheltered, loving upbringing—couldn't understand the acrid bitterness the argument created, nothing more than an excuse set forth by men who put their own self-importance on a pedestal and worshiped it more devoutly than any priestess in a rite. He recalled the lonely years spent wondering what it took to constitute importance, why the king's time was so much better spent with men in fancy clothes and shining armor, and he hoped his sincerity showed when he told his son, "Don't believe that."

Daniel watched him attentively, waiting for him to explain.

Alistair took a deep breath. "No matter what I have or have to do, there's _nothing_ more important to me than you. And I'm sorry, I can't tell you how sorry, that I haven't gotten the chance to show you that yet. I... I hope you can believe me."

For what felt like an agonizingly long time there was only silence, until at last, Daniel sat up and crawled into Alistair's lap, his small arms wrapped tightly around the broad chest, and the young king bent his head to kiss the top of his son's hair, drowning under a wave of emotion that overtook him at the feel of holding _his_ child against him, wanting never again to resurface.

… … …

It was a crowded room that greeted him when he emerged from Daniel's chamber. Elissa was there, looking exhausted, her legs curled up beside her on the couch, her elbow resting against the arm and supporting her head. Wynne was there as well, to his surprise, dressed in a nightgown and robe, her white hair loose around her shoulders.

"Wynne? What are you doing up?" he asked.

"Leliana came to my room earlier," she said, looking older and somehow frailer than Alistair had ever seen her. "I had to speak to Elissa."

He only nodded to show he understood, noticing for the first time that Wynne's worn, wrinkled hand was clutched firmly in Elissa's youthful, strong one. He supposed Leliana had finally taken herself off to bed, thank the Maker, but he would remind himself later he owed the bard a crushing hug when he saw her again for being the wonderfully wretched meddler she was.

But first, there was business to take care of. "Thomas," he said, and the young man snapped up from his dozing in a nearby chair. "Are there any ways of detecting the Taint that you haven't explored yet?"

The elf blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to think. "I'm not sure, Your Majesty. We've been careful to check for any sign..."

"I know. I'm telling you to check him again. Wynne can help you this time. She's done quite a study after being in our company. Maybe the two of you can pool your knowledge."

"I'd like that, too." Elissa's voice was exceptionally quiet, and he glanced her way. She looked fearful, but unsurprised. Likely she had noted something amiss long before this. She managed to keep quiet, trusting that he would talk to her as soon as the room cleared out a bit. He envied her in that regard, wondering how many years it would take before he was capable of that kind of self-control.

"We need to find him a guard, as well," he said, turning to Maryn. "With half of the nobility in Ferelden here, we're not going to be able to keep this quiet—especially since every servant in the castle probably heard us."

"You're right," Wynne said, sounding more tired than before. "Word is probably spreading already. If I might suggest, Your Majesty, it may be prudent to station a guard outside of this room tonight. There are those who will be less than happy to learn that their daughters are out of the running to provide you with an heir."

Elissa jerked up at that, and Alistair flinched at the lightning strike in her eyes—and not all of it directed at those who would dare to harm her son. She glared at him, the word "heir" heavy as a gauntlet thrown between them. He deliberately didn't look at her, not up to that particular battle just now. "Good idea. Thomas was already on Morrigan duty tonight—we'll get Darren to watch them." Privately, he pitied anyone who would be stupid enough to try to get past Elissa, but she was dangerously exhausted and he wasn't taking any chances. "We'll find a more permanent solution tomorrow."

"Aeryc can take care of him," Elissa said. Alistair sensed her hesitation despite the edge to her voice, still leery of trying to tell him what to do, but regardless of how guilty she may have felt, she wasn't about to sit by and let other people decide things where her son was concerned. "Daniel knows him. It would make things less awkward."

"For now. But I'm putting a member of the King's Own on duty with Aeryc until Daniel can adjust. Aeryc's not always going to be there, Elissa," Alistair added when it looked like she wanted to argue. "And neither are you. You two are a little busy with the whole running of the Grey Wardens. He needs someone who's only job is to keep an eye on him. You know that as well as I do."

She pursed her lips, but didn't object. He saw for the first time just how difficult this was going to be for her, being suddenly required to share the raising of their son after she had made these decisions on her own for so long. The small fantasy bubble he had built that told him things were going to slide into place and be perfect now instantly burst. It left him feeling abnormally tired.

At least, he thought, she seemed willing to try.

The reminder that he and Elissa still had a lot to discuss nudged at him uncomfortably. "Um, you may want to check on him," he said hesitantly. "He was awake when I went in there, and he heard... well, more than we thought."

She was up before he had finished speaking, disappearing into the sparsely lit room and closing the door softly behind her. "Clear out," he told the rest. "We still have a wedding to attend tomorrow, and Leliana will begin showing her ugly side if any of us dares to show up late."

With muted nods, the rest got up and made to leave, Wynne pausing to rest an affection hand on his arm to murmur gently, "Congratulations, Your Majesty," before departing towards her own chamber.

Maryn was the last to leave. "What's to be done about the commander, Your Majesty?"

"What do you mean?" Alistair asked, running a hand across his eyes. This had been, by far, the longest day of his life, and that included anything the Blight had been able to throw at them.

"She's guilty of treason." Alistair's head snapped up, but Maryn didn't look angry or agitated, only cautious. "She jeopardized the royal bloodline with her secrets—that's a direct violation of allegiance to your crown. I'm not going to be the only one to see it. Give them half a chance and the banns will turn on her quickly enough."

"As far as you're concerned, I've known about Daniel all along," said Alistair. "I _chose_ to keep him hidden until my throne was secure. And that's a bit of trust I'm throwing under the banner of _your_ allegiance… just in case you were wondering." No one was going to believe such a flimsy story, but then, they didn't have to. All they needed to know was that trying to pit the King against the Hero of Ferelden would be a useless endeavor.

Maryn nodded thoughtfully. "I can pass the word to Darren. He's become pretty popular with some of the serving lasses, if you take my meaning, and he can drop the word here and there. It'll be all over the castle before you know it."

Alistair gave him a weak smile despite his exhaustion. "I wondered where he'd been disappearing to. But you're also assuming the Landsmeet will even believe he's mine and let me name him as my heir. I doubt it will be that simple."

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but they're not blind."

"Meaning I am?" he asked, grinning when Maryn looked abashed. "Not to worry. I'm feeling more than a little stupid myself right now. All the same, things could get heated before this is over."

"I wouldn't be sure about that, Sire. There will be those who are a bit put out to see that they won't be the grandfather of the next king, but there are many more who will be relieved to see the throne stabilized. I'd be willing to wager the Landsmeet will accept him readily enough."

"I suppose." Alistair flopped down into a nearby chair. "Get to bed, Maryn. I've got to talk to Elissa before I go back." And one other person, but if he told his captain about that, he'd never be able to shake him. Maryn still didn't seem too fond of the plan, but he didn't dare argue. With a nod, he left.

Alistair hesitated before Daniel's door, wondering how welcome he was just then. He decided need super ceded propriety and cautiously stuck his head in. Elissa was sitting in the stool beside the bed, running her fingers through Daniel's hair and humming the same lullaby they had heard from Leliana earlier that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

The candlelight played softly over the lines of her face, glowing orange against her pitch black hair and creating the illusion of fine copper spilling over her shoulder to pool in her lap. Daniel's eyes were shut in blissful sleep, and for a moment, Alistair felt a twinge of guilt at interrupting them. Elissa glanced up at him, but her dark voice continued to sooth, driving away any chance of nightmares that may have stalked her child. Though Leliana's tenor was far more skilled than Elissa's, there was something hauntingly beautiful about Elissa's voice, he had always thought, akin to the wind over the sea in her homeland.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said softly. "Will you still be up?"

She nodded absently, her focus on her son. He ducked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

He needed to see Morrigan.

… … …

Devin was leaning lazily against the witch's door, his hand over his mouth to cover a wide yawn. He snapped to attention when he saw Alistair approaching, flushing under the frown the king gave him. "Apologies, Your Majesty. Hard to keep watch on such a quiet night."

Alistair crossed his arms. "Maybe, but the woman you're guarding is nothing to scoff at. She's dangerous. Try to remember that, please." He gestured with his chin towards the door. "Is she asleep?"

"The last I checked, Your Majesty. She looked fair worn out when you brought her in."

That was true, but he had neither the patience nor, frankly, the concern to wait until morning. Dismissing Devin from his mind, he opened the door, pausing only long enough to let his eyesight adjust to the dimly lit room before shutting it behind him.

The window was open, the full moon providing enough light to make out the shape of the bed and the person sleeping in it. He stood off to the side and reached out to wake her with a rough shaking, careful to be ready if the spells started flying. "Get up. I need to talk to you."

A bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips and disappeared out the window, vanishing into the night.

"Your aim is a little off."

Morrigan sat up and rubbed her eyes, apparently having cast before she was truly awake, just as he had expected. "Alistair," she said in a voice that managed to convey distaste despite being thick and rough with sleep. "To what do I owe this appalling honor?"

"I have some questions."

"That comes as no surprise. And I suppose you expect me to answer them for you?"

"No. I'm just so fond of your company I couldn't help myself," he said dryly and sat at the edge of the bed, ignoring the seductive smile that was definitely intended to annoy him. "Don't flatter yourself. I wanted to know about this ritual of yours." She was suddenly all attention, quickly blinking the last of the sleep from her eyes and sitting up to wrap her arms around her upraised knees. "What is it meant to do, exactly? The _whole_ truth, if you don't mind."

She ignored the jab. "It will silence the song that follows the child. He is a powerful being, rich in both magic an intelligence, but the darkspawn have no intention of harming him. They are set on Tainting him, on turning him again into the Archdemon you destroyed."

He took a moment to digest that. "And what were Elissa's thoughts about this?"

Morrigan frowned, apparently unhappy at the thought that Elissa's opinion should carry any weight with it. "She did not tell you?"

He shrugged. "Maybe she meant to, later. We sort of got a little sidetracked."

Her eyes narrowed on him, calculating. "She has instructed me to take him to Vigil's Keep. Why?"

"I suppose you plan to come back immediately and make sure Elissa keeps her word?"

"And what would lead you to believe such?"

He looked straight into the golden eyes, giving her a small, self-deprecating smile. "Because maybe I _know_ you, no matter how much neither of us wants to admit it."

Morrigan glowered and looked away. A small difference between love and hate, the minstrels said, and though everything that Alistair was rejected Morrigan and the way her mind worked, he understood her, knew the driving force behind the woman nearly as well as he knew himself. It worked two ways, as he had learned rather painfully the last time they were in Redcliffe together. It had been so easy for Morrigan to flush out and expose his only weakness, exploiting it with superior skills in manipulation in order to get what she wanted—his baby.

With a nearly undetectable sigh, Morrigan finally answered him. "I... shall likely leave him in the care of your Grey Wardens and assist Elissa in finding the cave the darkspawn crawl from." He snorted at her choice of wording. She only wanted to keep her eye on him and Elissa, though she couldn't be sure he planned to go with them just yet. She frowned at the sound. "Why are you plaguing me with this nonsense? It doesn't concern you."

"It does," he said. "Daniel. You must know he's not... there's something different about him."

"Of course," she said, her eyes narrowing as she tried to discern his agenda. "One does not brush up against a god and walk away unaffected."

Alistair felt the weary acceptance of one who sees his worst fears justified. "So he _was_ possessed."

She nodded once. "Momentarily. I could never have foreseen that Urthemiel would sense two forms to inhabit when Elissa killed the beast that enslaved him. Her proximity was unexpected—I fully anticipated that you would never allow her to deliver the killing blow. It took all of my power to draw the soul into his intended host."

He scowled, his eyes narrowing dangerously as Morrigan's explanation revealed more than he had anticipated. "Are you saying you knew Elissa was pregnant _then_?"

"You did not?" she asked innocently, quirking an eyebrow. Alistair shot to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, doing his best not to give her the satisfaction of losing his temper. In his entire life, no one had mastered riling him the way Morrigan had.

"Look," he said, "I know we'll never be the best of friends—which is good, since I hate you—but we seem to have a common goal here. How much danger is he in? Honestly. Can the darkspawn sense him?"

She didn't answer at first, and when she did, the words came grudgingly, difficult for her to admit. "I do not know. 'Tis highly doubtful, or the Wardens would have noticed something was amiss long ago."

He should have realized that. He sank down into the room's only chair and rested his elbows on his knees, threading his fingers together. "Wynne sensed something in Daniel, though. She could feel the power in him. Is he a mage, then?"

"He's not." The answer came slowly as she considered her words. He could see it in her eyes when her plan clicked into place, when she decided a semblance of honesty would go further in getting his cooperation. "I am not certain what he is, but the Fade gathers around him, calling to him. Yet, the demons shun him, cowering away from that which they do not understand. He does not face the danger others do."

"But the Chantry—"

"I cannot speak for the Chantry. If that haughty old biddy you keep company with sensed something in him, you can be assured another will eventually."

He nodded, thinking. The idea of Daniel being discovered was more appalling than ever. The Tower, he could learn to live with, but a magical mystery, waited to be explored and prodded at...

Absolutely _not_.

"Can you help him?" he asked finally, looking up into the yellow gaze of a woman he barely tolerated. "Can you hide the power he has?"

She was going to jump on the answer, tell him quickly that she could do as he asked. He saw it in the way she leaned forward eagerly, ready to speak, but some emotion he didn't recognize stopped her. She paused, drawing away from him slowly, her mind skittering somewhere else, to someone else, before she answered. "I am not certain," she said, sounding perfectly sincere. "There is a good possibility that the ritual will work on both of them, as their power draws from the same source, and their blood springs from the same man, but I cannot promise you anything."

Alistair sat back, watching her. There was something out of place—different from the Morrigan he remembered. She seemed softer, less adept at discarding signs of emotion. He wondered if her hesitation had anything to do with Elissa. Even for his dislike of the witch, he knew that she was the one person Morrigan had ever seemed to care about, in her own way. For the first time, he wondered just what following Flemeth's orders had cost her.

Morrigan was watching him warily, waiting for his answer. He saw her fingers curled in the folds of the sheet she was draped in, and realized with a jolt that she was _frightened _of him. She was frightened of the power he wielded as both king and templar, wary of the threat he could possibly pose to her son.

_Their son_.

The thought came unbidden, hammering against his desire to drive it out. Alistair had built a wall of determined denial around himself the instant he had left Morrigan's bed that fateful night, but at the sight of the witch, the wall was beginning to show its first cracks. The boy out there—alone and running from the darkspawn—was no less his son then Daniel.

Reality struck painfully, tightening in his chest until it was difficult to breathe. "Morrigan." He paused and took a deep breath. "Can I ask... what's his name?"

She stiffened, every line of her going hard until appeared carved from marble, beautiful and unyielding in the moonlight, and he thought she wasn't going to answer him. Her eyes returned to life sooner than the rest of her did, and her lashes lowered, peering at him in evident distrust. "His name is Kern," she said in short, clipped tones.

_Well, that's what happens when you leave the choice to a swamp witch,_ he thought with a twist to his mouth. "Why do you need anything from me? You're more a part of him than I am."

"That is, unfortunately, not true," she said, her voice closer to a grumble then he had ever heard it. It was enough to make him smile, if only a little. "He is powerful, but he holds one weakness. Of everyone on this earth, only you and I are immune to his power. Only we hold the power to do him harm. Therefore..."

"Only we can protect him," he finished. It made a twisted kind of sense, when he thought about it.

_More blood magic_. When he had first been propositioned with it, he had immediately recoiled from the idea, feeling like he had been asked to reach out and pet a large, hairy spider. Only his fear for Elissa had allowed him to go through with the ritual. It gave him the strength to swallow everything he had been taught about blood magic, including the surge of disgust that filled him at the idea of _participating_ in it. The fact that he had to sleep with Morrigan had truly only been something to make it that much worse.

And now he was faced with a similar choice to protect those he cared about. Only this time, it wasn't a seasoned warrior that had stolen his heart, but children. His children.

The decision was much easier this time.

He stood up and drew the knife at his belt. Morrigan's eyes widened. Alistair gave her a condescending look and closed his fist around the blade before yanking it back, slicing his palm open. "Give me your vial."

… … …

Elissa was still in the primary room of her given apartments when he returned, but she was nearly asleep. She was curled on the couch, lying on her side with her hand beneath her cheek and her dark hair spread around her. He didn't particularly want to wake her, thinking that the many things they still had to sort out could wait until they were both up to it, but he didn't want her staying there waiting for him all night, either.

"Liss," he said softly, crouching down beside her and running his fingers through her hair. "Go to bed."

"Hmm?"

"Come on. You hate sleeping on the couch."

"Where were you?" she asked drowsily, not bothering to open her eyes.

"I had to talk to Morrigan."

She looked at him then, her expression going guarded as abruptly as a book slamming shut. He sighed, feeling a twinge of old guilt he hadn't felt in years, even though he hadn't done anything wrong. "Come on, Elissa. You don't get to hold that against me now."

"I'm not," she said, forcing herself into a sitting position and pushing her hair back. It fell softly around her face, tousled from sleep with the ends curling prettily around her shoulders and arms. He realized hadn't seen it down in… a really long time. She yawned. "I promise, I'm not holding anything against you. It's just not a pleasant thing to remember."

He gave her a crooked smile. "And how do you think _I_ feel, knowing she's the only other person I've slept with?" he asked, collapsing on the seat beside her. It had to be nearing the middle of the night. Being king had spoiled him, he thought wryly—if he'd had to keep watch now he'd probably doze off and fall onto his own blade.

Elissa looked at him sharply, her eyes shot through with red. "I hadn't realized that was true. That you haven't been with anyone else, I mean."

"You think I started the rumor because of the awesome reputation it's earning me?"

She laughed softly. "I suppose you've got a point." She yawned again, which only made him do the same. "Maker's breath, I can't remember the last time I was so tired."

"Go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow."

"Gladly. Move."

"Not likely."

She shrugged and lay back down, draping her legs across his lap.

He smiled. "Nope. In bed. You'll whine at me all day tomorrow about how sore you are otherwise."

She grinned sleepily. "You're the one who wouldn't move. I guess you'll just have to deal with it."

"Stubborn woman."

Her hand went up to readjust her pillow, but didn't open her eyes. The urge to lie down beside her and slip his arms around her like he had once been able to do was nearly overwhelming, but he restrained himself. With a sigh, he slid himself out from beneath her legs.

But before he left, he knelt beside the couch and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, soft and chaste. She immediately woke up at that. He laughed quietly at the bewildered look in her eyes, teasing the hair at her temple with the tips of his fingers.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. But we have a son. I can think of worse things."

She smiled up at him before closing her eyes again. As he got up to leave, the barest hint of a plan began to form in his mind. It had come to him as he held Daniel, sinking into the idea of having a family of his own. He still loved Elissa—it was stupid to deny it now. He only wondered how he had managed to for so long. They were different people then they had been then, grown into separate roles and nowhere near a place where they could pick up where they had left off. But she had loved him once.

He intended to see that she would again.


	11. Pangs

**Chapter Ten**

_**Pangs**_

_._

_And through the sleepless nights_

_Through every endless day_

_I want to hear you say_

_I remember you_

_~ Skid Row_

_._

_._

Morning came too soon for the young king. He was barely awake and seriously considering trying to steal another ten minutes or so of sleep when his manservant entered, flanked by a couple of pages. The boys were both weighed down with buckets of steaming water, and William had that look on his face that said he was ready for a battle. At the sight Alistair groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head.

Right. It was one of _those_ days.

"Come, Your Majesty," the man said before Alistair even got a chance to protest. "You know it's necessary."

"It's _not_ necessary," he said from beneath the pillow. "It's only _expected_. The people of Redcliffe know me as the Grey Warden who helped to stop the Blight, you know. Did I ever mention to you exactly how unsanitary that stint was? I don't think the sight of me in my regular clothes will cause any untoward panicking."

"Your Majesty, please." William was beginning to sound a little desperate. "This is a political event. You are required to look the part of the King of Ferelden. It wouldn't do to insult Arl Teagan's importance."

"Since the people are more than happy to call me their king when they have a grievance of some kind, I'd say trying to make me look like one is a little redundant at this point, wouldn't you? I may very well go in my bedclothes. That should get my name in the history books."

"Alistair…" Wynne called warningly from the next room.

He grinned to himself, still under the pillow where no one could see him. Riling up the stuffy William was one of his favorite ways to begin a day that would otherwise be filled with courtly expectations.

One had to find the silver lining somewhere.

"Fine, I'm up." He sat up and shoved the blankets aside, briefly running a hand through his tousled hair. "Go ahead and do your worst."

"My _humble_ thanks, Your Majesty," William said, and with a gesture of his hand sent the pages to fill the tub in the corner of the room.

About an hour later, Alistair waited in the great hall with the rest of the visiting nobles, surrounded by a crowd. So far, his concentration had been centered on deflecting casually raised matters of state disguised as friendly conversation. This was something he had become particularly good at, after enough practice—the ongoing game of pretending to promise everything without actually saying anything. Elissa had been a master at such doublespeak while they traveled together. It was an interesting statement on how drastically his life had changed, that he had begun mimicking a habit he once chided her for.

Some valid concerns were brought before him, however, and within a very short time he had completely filled the entire following day with audiences for lords who would have a long journey to Denerim otherwise. And he had promised there would be no working on this trip. Wynne was going to throw a fit.

Elissa descended the stairs a short time later, her Grey Wardens following closely behind her. Each of the Wardens wore matching black tabards bearing a silver griffon over a white shirt, but Elissa had donned a gown of dark blue silk for the occasion—after, he assumed, losing an argument with Leliana. Her hair was loose and falling down her back in soft waves, caught at the nape of her neck with a simple ribbon as a sign she was yet unmarried. Grateful for the distraction, he managed to give her a smile as she glided past, close enough that he overheard the hissed orders she gave the trailing Wardens.

"Kindly remember that this is a _wedding_. That means no fighting, getting stumbling drunk, or puking on the new landscaping. And keep your filthy paws off the nobles' daughters." The last was said with a pointed look at Zevran and Darren. Alistair had to disguise a laugh as a cough to avoid offending the men talking at him.

His mood shifted dramatically when the ladies-in-waiting appeared at the stairs a few moments later, carrying baskets loaded with dried petals to carpet the floor of the chantry for the bride. They approached him in a giggling group. It was all Alistair could do to keep smiling and make the appropriate responses when the inevitable flirting came into play, single women targeting him as ruthlessly as a hunter targets a deer. Though it was something he was more than used to, he suddenly had to restrain the urge to snarl at them to go away.

The memory rose unbidden, and unwelcome…

…_The room still smelled like her._

_Alistair wandered aimlessly around the empty space, littered here and there with objects she had decided to leave behind. Scrolls, a pile of books, some useless weapons that would be sent to the armory to either be serviced or melted down. Almost every object held some memory for him, sometimes amusing, more often than not terrifying. But at least in all of them she was _there_, strong and unwavering; she was the one constant in a chaotic existence that offered him no promises._

_And now she was gone._

_He had only come here at night during the weeks she had spent in Denerim recovering, when she was still unconscious and he didn't have to see the accusation in her eyes. Even though he had been in the same place, in the same _building_, the distance between them had grown into something more powerful and insurmountable than simple location. She was harder than she had once been, cool and detached, and it hurt just to see her. Instead, Wynne had kept him updated on her progress, patiently answering his frantic inquiries with assurances that she would heal._

_A splash of color in the corner of the room caught his eye, and he bent down and picked up what looked like exceptionally thin bits of colored paper. As he held them closer, the truth sank icy claws into his spine. He found himself sitting on the bed with no clear knowledge of how he got there._

_He was holding the demolished remains of a dead rose..._

...Alistair glanced over at Elissa, talking amiably with Zevran in the corner, completely unaware of what the sight of her was doing to him. With a muttered excuse, he managed to extricate himself from the crowd of ambitious females and duck into an alcove that kept him relatively shielded from the crowds.

He needed some air.

… … …

It surprised Elissa sometimes, the little things she remembered from her childhood in Highever. She had stumbled over the long skirts of her dress more than once this morning, and she was dreading her place near the honor table, where her table manners would be on display for all and sundry, but her hands seemed to move of their own accord when Leliana asked her to help pin up her long, red-gold tresses. She recalled with fondness the hours spent on her own hair during the frequent visits paid by young, eligible sons and the games that followed, evasion and allusion and doing all her in her power to duck the guillotine of an arranged marriage.

"Where is Daniel this morning?" Leliana asked after several moments spent watching Elissa work with a critical eye before deciding she could trust her to the task. "I had very much hoped for one of his delightful smiles to help calm my nerves."

"You? Nervous?" Elissa laughed when Leliana rolled her eyes. "I should be so fortunate to suffer from your nerves. You've never looked lovelier."

"Ah, but that is happiness. I feel I could burst with it and spill it all over you, truly. I am sure you would not mind, of course—a little shared happiness is never unwelcome, yes?"

Elissa smiled at Leliana's reflection in the mirror. "Daniel's with Aeryc and Brannon. Maryn insisted this morning that a member of the king's guard join him." She bit back a sigh. "Apparently Brannon has a passel of younger siblings, so he thought it a good match."

"You sound doubtful."

Elissa gave her a wry smile. "No, I trust's Maryn's judgment well enough, and Alistair spoke up for him, too. I suppose I'm just adjusting. It's only been a matter of hours and already I have to take Alistair's position into consideration. I'm beginning to sympathize with him. His life must be one enormous headache." She slid the last pin into place and patted Leliana's hair. "There. Perfect."

The bard turned her head, examining the elaborate pile of curls. "You are quite talented, Elissa. I do not suppose that I could convince you to leave Amaranthine and come stay with me instead? Oh, we would have such fun together!"

Elissa laughed quietly and sat down in a nearby chair while her friend started in on the arduous task of applying her cosmetics. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Leliana answered, distracted as she checked her profile in the mirror.

"What made you choose Teagan?" Leliana glanced at her, and she shrugged. "Not that I'm objecting, mind—personally, I like Teagan quite a lot. I'm just curious. You seem so sure in your decision."

Leliana turned back to her mirror, a whisper of a smile playing about her full lips. "You have the most interesting thoughts running through that busy little head these days, my friend."

She supposed she _was_ being rather transparent, but she scowled anyway. "Can we keep the teasing to a minimum, please?"

"Never would I dream of teasing you." Leliana leaned in closer to the mirror as she ran a fine brush over her eyelid. "Teagan and I have much in common. Our relationship was so effortless, even the first time you and I came to Redcliffe with the others. He is a kind man, one who willingly overlooked my past for the sake of our friendship."

Elissa blinked. "That's all? No long speeches about fire and longing and all that other stuff? You love that nonsense."

Leliana threw her head back with a laugh. "You wound me. You cannot believe the words of poets or bards, my Elissa. They tend to miss the important parts, wrapped up as they are in the fantasy. I adore Teagan, heart and soul and mind, and yes, 'all the other stuff', as you so put it. But love that can boast nothing but burning blood and desire will eventually burn itself out, no? But this—today I will spend the rest of my life with my very best friend! I could not think of anything more wonderful."

Elissa was quiet, thoughtful. In the grand scheme of things, she had precious little experience when it came to men in the romantic sense—she was certainly nowhere near as wise as Leliana in such matters. There was Aeryc, who was nothing more than a brotherly type and definitely regarded her the same way. Zevran's interest in turning her into another conquest had fizzled out before it had truly begun and their relationship was much stronger for it—even if he did still flirt with her relentlessly. While she had noted that particular habit of his still annoyed Alistair to no end, Elissa knew it to be harmless. She didn't even try to pretend that she didn't know Zevran had been half in love with Jaedan himself. Jaedan had certainly been her closest friend before they were lovers, his reckless smile and easy manner serving as a spark of sanity in a world that threatened to drive her into madness. He was never the one woman man that Alistair had been, however, and she hadn't wanted him to be. There was always something missing, something just out of reach between them that had never blossomed into full blown adoration. Nathaniel might have been the closest, but he was a memory surrounded by girlish fantasies and misplaced dreams—as a woman, the reality had been much less intoxicating.

She had only known that feeling once in her life, unexpected and mistimed as it was, and it had been taken away from her almost before she had realized what it was, pushed aside for grave matters more important to everyone in Ferelden, except for her. Leliana was too loyal to rub it in her face, even today. But poets weren't the dishonest ones.

It was the heart that lied…

…"_There's nothing to talk about, Elissa."_

_He wouldn't even look at her, staring into the fire in determined silence. His cool detachment in the days since the Landsmeet was like metal rubbing against raw skin, chaffing away at her resolve until she was left bleeding inside, with no outlet for her frustration._

_Like everything did for her then, it reared into anger._

"_So—what? I can't sleep with you anymore so now I can't even _talk_ to you?" He finally lifted his eyes at the sharpened tone, wincing at her brazenly harsh assessment. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?"_

_He looked at her sadly before returning his gaze to the fire. "What is it that you want me to say?"_

_He may as well have struck her, for the impact the words had. She felt the tears gather against her will and quickly turned away. He saw them, anyway. She saw him reach for her, an automatic reflex, and her hurt flash boiled into rage. She shoved him, hard enough to send him stumbling back, and the camp went suddenly quiet._

"_Very well, _Your Majesty_," she said. "You don't have to worry about me bothering you again." She left him standing there shaking his head at her and stalked towards the trees, suddenly desperate to get far away from him—from all of them._

"_It's not like I wanted this, you know!" he called after her._

_She didn't answer._

… … …

"If the king does not mind his eyes, people are going to begin to talk."

Elissa glanced at Zevran, who was scowling as he leaned against the wall where they stood in the shade, waiting until it was time to leave for the chantry. She only smiled at the grumble in his tone. "I think you're the one who should watch his eyes. If you keep watching the king to see what he's doing, people are definitely going to get the wrong idea."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Such wit. You are in such a bubbling mood, my dear, I am almost reluctant to point out that he has been staring at you for the better part of an hour. It may sour your disposition."

"And yet, your reluctance doesn't seem to stretch that far." She sighed. "One of my dearest friends is getting married today, and I've never seen a woman as happy as she is. I'd much rather concentrate on that, if it doesn't offend you too much."

Zevran lifted an arm to study his fingernails. "He wants you back, Elissa. It is obvious to anyone with the eyes to see it, and perhaps even to one or two of the blind."

"_Zevran_."

"Which leads me to wonder what it is that _you_ want."

"What I want is to stop talking about this." She pushed herself away from the wall. "Or is this your way at getting even with me for sending you with Morrigan?"

"Petty vengeance is distasteful. Which does not mean I do not occasionally indulge in such leanings, but no. I will take Morrigan to Amaranthine as we discussed, with a happy song in my loyal heart." He smiled at her pointed snort. "I merely ask because I am genuinely curious, _bella_. Should Alistair seek to rectify a dreadful mistake made long ago, what will you do?"

She covered her eyes against the sun and glanced at the waiting carriages, wishing the journey would get underway already. "He doesn't even know me," she answered finally. "Any more than I know him. Five years is a long time, Zev."

"So it is," he murmured, looking at her carefully. Abruptly, he straightened up, sparing her with a change in subject. "I think I will have to work at getting you wonderfully drunk tonight. Leliana is sure to provide us the means, don't you think? She does throw an exceptional party."

She smiled at him and slipped an arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. Zevran smiled and brushed his lips across her forehead, but not before she saw the glimmer of genuine concern in his eyes.

Being in the yard, Elissa was in a perfect position to watch as the royal party made its way to the waiting carriages that would take them to the chantry. One of the things that had first drawn her to Alistair, back in the beginning before either was sure they were even going to be able to manage being friends, was his seemingly limitless energy, fueled by that scattered sense of humor that made even the darkest situation a little less grave. It was more pronounced than ever as she watched him hurry down the steps of the castle with his full guard marching behind him. He seemed like a force of nature, a spot in the country where the sun shone just a little brighter than it did on the rest of them.

It had been hard, so very hard, to put him in a place he feared and resented…

… "_Elissa, please don't do this. You know what will happen if you put me on the throne."_

_She was pacing back and forth in their room, had been for so long she could see that he was tempted to grab her and force her to stop. "What other option do we have?"_

_He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "I don't want to be king. I don't know _how_ to be king. All I'm ever going to be to these people is some sort of poor substitute for Cailan. And those are the nice ones who won't openly call me a usurper." He looked up with her with pleading eyes, shaking her resolve to the core. "Don't do this to me."_

"_Do you think I like this?" she demanded, every nerve tight and twisted. "We don't have any other choice! If Anora takes the throne she's going to be sympathetic to her father, and he could very well end up as the steward again! You know as well as I do she's not going to remarry unless she's forced to."_

"_Elissa." He reached out and caught her arm, drawing her over to stand between his knees, his hands resting on her hips as he looked at her, beseeching her to change her mind. "Please… I don't want to lose you."_

_She couldn't let those words affect her, not now. "Or I you," she answered softly. "But … we can't…" She drew a deep breath. "I don't know what else to _do_, Alistair. Tell me what else we can do."_

_He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his forehead against her belly, and closed his eyes. He didn't—couldn't—refute her..._

...The Grey Wardens fell back along the edge of the walkway, bowing low as the king passed them by, each one bent in genuine respect for their monarch. Before climbing into the carriage, Alistair caught her eye and tossed her a wink, flirty as a young page, and Elissa had to swallow back a laugh. Knowing the kingship hadn't destroyed him soothed a long-carried ache in her heart. Instead of breaking him, the elevated status had merely polished away the rough edges, strengthening his weaknesses and forcing him to live up to his potential. She was almost grateful for the strange circumstances that had brought them together again and allowed her to finally see it.

Maybe, at last, she could begin to feel vindicated in her decision to give him away to the country he loved.

… … …

Horseback definitely had its advantages.

The carriage bounced unevenly along the rocky path, jostling hard whenever they reached properly cobbled paths and leaning precariously at every sharp turn. Alistair sighed and rolled his eyes at Teagan, who laughed at his discomfort.

Alistair felt slightly guilty that he hadn't yet told Teagan about Daniel, but he knew that it wasn't the right time for that announcement. Not only would Elissa likely skin him if he started making assumptions, Leliana would probably help her if he took the focus away from her day.

He really needed to consider befriending some women who didn't kind of terrify him.

When they finally reached the chantry, Alistair hovered outside on the boarded porch, watching as the crowds swarmed in the yard, hurrying to get inside to escape the heat of the day as well as the fishy smell that rose off the lake. Before he was urged inside by his guards, Alistair caught sight of Elissa. She was on Zevran's arm, nearly bursting with good humor. She had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but Alistair knew her well enough to see the subtle changes, the slight shift way she carried herself, and the smile that lurked around her expression, ready to come forth and brighten her entire appearance. It was a privileged few who ever saw Elissa for who she really was…

…_He leaned on the low wall, half sitting as he pretended to sharpen his dagger. In reality, he was watching _her_._

_He had thought her cold, at first—dutifully trudging through business as usual without so much as a whispered sigh for those lost at Ostagar. While he wallowed, Elissa had continued to force him up every morning, made him keep moving towards Lothering without a thought for taking the time to grieve. She didn't seem to care about anyone._

_He was beginning to learn otherwise._

_He studied her out of the corner of his eye as she bent down to talk to the lost child, her voice dropping to a soothing murmur as she questioned him. He saw something deep and real in her eyes as she reached into the pouch on her belt and, ignoring Morrigan's hiss of disapproval, gave the boy a silver piece before instructing him to the chantry._

_Not cold. Reserved, maybe, but not cold. He would have to reassess his opinion of her._

_It certainly wouldn't be the first time he was wrong about something..._

...Elissa laughed and leaned in to say something to Zevran, who chuckled in reply. The sun played over her ebony locks, and her cobalt eyes sparkled with the easy humor that had made such an unlikely friendship spring up, strong and protective, between them in a remarkably short time. For one moment, Alistair caught a glimpse of the girl he had fallen so madly in love with.

She had barely changed at all…

…_The mage stormed off, furious. Alistair winced at himself, sure he was going to get an earful about that later. With a sigh he turned, brought up short when he saw the bruised and exhausted figure waiting nearby, silhouetted against the glare of the setting sun. He was startled enough that it took a moment to collect his thoughts, found himself just short of gaping before he finally pulled himself together and managed to introduce himself._

_The new Warden was a girl._


	12. Something Blue

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Something Blue**_

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_The scent of magic, the beauty that's been_

_When love was wilder than the wind_

_~Roxette_

.

.

The thunder outside was loud enough to disrupt the Revered Mother in the middle of her sermon and make Alistair jerk up from where he slouched in a near-hypnotic trance. He heard Elissa laughing under her breath, somewhere behind him and to his left. He had to resist the urge to turn and look at her, sure he would start laughing as well if he did. He received a sharp look from the head priestess as it was, before she returned to her Chant book to find her place.

He couldn't help it. As much as he loved Leliana and Teagan, long ceremonies always tried every ounce of his patience, and the Chantry was more interested in the opportunity to preach then it was the two people on the dais. The Revered Mother certainly wasn't going to say anything that hadn't been drilled into his head a hundred times when he lived there. He stifled a yawn and crossed his arms, waiting for her to get to the part he was actually there for.

Another roll of thunder, and Alistair glanced out the window at the grey dim trickling in, shrouding the gathering in muted colored light from the highly decorated windows. He had nearly forgotten this small inconvenience of life in Redcliffe, frequent thunderstorms in the afternoon that blew in from the mountains during the summer months. It would be pouring by the time the ceremony ended, and for a moment he nearly smiled at the idea of Ferelden's nobility darting for their waiting carriages. Rain just didn't have the same effect on him that it used to after spending long, miserable hours in the stuff during the Blight.

"We call on the Maker to bless the union of this man and woman, come before Him to be joined in the holy state of matrimony…" Alistair gave his wandering attention back to the dais at the words that signaled the sermon was over. He felt the smile on his lips as he watched Leliana, the light shining from the yellow stained glass at the front of the Chantry turning her hair into fiery liquid gold, making her beautiful as she recited her vows. He had never seen a woman so confident in the words she uttered, her gaze locked on the man before her in earnest devotion.

He had to wonder, somewhere in the back of his mind, if his own marriage had a chance at being even a poor shadow of this one.

With some trepidation—glutton for punishment, wasn't he?—he risked a glance at Elissa. He was much appeased to see her abruptly look away when he caught her watching him, revealing for one unguarded instant a secret longing that she likely would never, ever admit to.

… … …

Any other bride would have been in hysterics at the light drizzle that greeted the wedding party as they departed from the chantry. Leliana threw out her arms and lifted her face to the cool sky, laughing even as the moisture dragged down her curls and smudged her carefully applied cosmetics.

The guests hung back in the shelter of the chantry, grumbling that the ceremony could have, and _should_ have, been held in the chapel on the grounds rather than down in the village. Leliana had been adamant, though. Teagan's people adored him, and had a right to share in the celebration. Alistair had to admit she was right after seeing the droves of people along the roads, ignoring the rain for a chance to throw flowers and shout their congratulations to the arl.

"The carriages are going to have a rough time of it, trying to make it up that path in this mud," Teagan said. "You were quite right, Your Majesty. We should have just ridden down here."

"No reason why we can't now," Alistair said and gestured towards a waiting page, who bowed dubiously and went to saddle the horses. It was worth it, he thought, to see the nobility shooting questioning glances at each other at the sight of the arl and the king getting ready to head back to the castle and silently wonder if they should follow suit.

Leliana giggled and pushed her hair out of her face when Elissa hovered back, uncertain. "Come, Elissa," she said, allowing Teagan to help her into the saddle. "You aren't going to let a little thing like water keep you from my lovely party, are you?"

Zevran had already set out on foot with several of the Grey Wardens. Whatever the elf was playing at, Alistair wasn't sure, but he had at least one reason to be grateful for it. Leaning over in the saddle, he offered his hand down to her. Elissa bit her lip and looked up the hill, probably wondering if it would be a better idea to walk.

"Suck it up, Liss." He smiled at her, chuckling at the scowl she gave him as she took his hand and let him help her up. She settled herself in front of him—no easy task in the long, full skirts—but kept her back stiff to avoid touching him as much as possible. Still encouraged by her behavior in the chantry, he leaned forward with a wicked grin and slid his arms around her to take the reins, leaning in until his lips brushed her ear. "Come on, Elissa. You're going to topple right into the mud with that attitude."

With something like a growl, she settled back, resting against him. Satisfied, Alistair made sure he had a secure hold on her before setting off for the castle, Teagan and Leliana following closely behind and trailed by the royal guard.

Elissa relaxed after a few moments, succumbing to the kind of familiarity that never really goes away. She even managed to smile and wave when the cry of "Maker save the Hero of Ferelden!" rose amidst the blessings called out by the crowd, even though he knew full well she hated the title.

"You seem quite popular," she said with deliberate innocence, settling back a bit to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Is that your extremely unsubtle way of saying 'I told you so'?"

She laughed. "Caught that, did you?"

He slowed the horse's pace a bit, in no real hurry to return to the castle. The rain was letting up, sunshine fighting through breaks in the clouds in brilliant bursts before disappearing again behind the blanket of grey. "Well, if you really need to hear it…" he teased, amused by her huff of exasperation. "You were right, Elissa," he said more seriously, glancing around at the crowds surrounding them. "This is where I belonged. I owed that much to my family."

She was quiet, shifting slightly. "I never heard you talk like that before."

He shrugged. "Maric may never be my hero, but I was cared for. I was sheltered, clothed, educated. Cailan cared enough to send me away from the battle, just in case he didn't make it through. Whether or not I knew him, this is where he intended me to be."

"You're a good king, Alistair," she said quietly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry I had to force you there."

He sighed. "I don't think you did. Not really." She looked back at him, a glance of flickering curiousness, before settling her eyes back on the road. "I think some part of me always knew it was the only answer. I guess I just needed the push you gave me before I could do it. I always trusted your judgment over mine. You know that." He grinned and tightened his hold on her just a bit. "I'm just thankful you didn't try to hand me over to Anora," he added wryly and she burst into laughter.

Some of the carriages had begun to arrive by the time they made it back to the castle, including the royal rig that carried Wynne. She sucked in a breath at the sight of their drenched clothes and narrowed her eyes at them when they came running through the courtyard.

"Uh-oh. I think Wynne is most perturbed with us," Leliana said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper. Alistair slid his arm around Elissa's waist as they tried in vain to choke down their amusement. For a fleeting moment, he was transported back in time, simply Alistair again, laughing with his friends while Wynne tapped her foot and glared at their foolishness.

"Maker save us, have you taken leave of your senses entirely?" she asked with a weary sigh.

"In rain, all things are washed clean," Leliana said with a smile, wringing water from her hair. "A perfect way to start a new life, yes? Almost as though a blessing from the Maker himself." She giggled when Teagan kissed her cheek and promptly caught Elissa's arm, pulling her to the center of the yard. Elissa cried out in halfhearted protest, but began to laugh as Leliana took her hands and dragged her along, doubled over with laughter.

The part of Alistair that had always been Elissa's friend rejoiced at the sight, silently thanking the Maker that she had someone like Leliana, who would forever have the power to strip away the serious and often grim warrior Elissa had become and transform her into a giggling girl who danced in the rain.

… … …

The moment they entered the hall, Daniel jumped up from one of the tables and ran for his mother, throwing his small arms around her waist in greeting. His linen shirt sported grass stains and there was mud on the knees of his pants, but it was the state of Elissa's clothing that seemed to concern him. "Mama, you're all wet!"

She laughed. "It's raining."

He backed away, eying her reproachfully. "You never let me play in the rain."

She smiled, sliding a mischievous glance at Alistair. "King's orders."

"Don't pull me into this," he said before bending down and scooping the boy up, heedless of the crowd filing in behind them. He wasn't _completely_ stupid—he knew full well Elissa had been hiding the child from the guests to avoid anyone actually seeing them together, but he was bursting with good humor and quite simply didn't care. Daniel rested his head on his shoulder, sucking on the tip of his finger and perfectly content to be there.

Elissa reacted momentarily, shooting a troubled glance around them, but apparently decided it wasn't worth the argument. People were going to have to know, eventually. "Take him upstairs, then. We have to change."

"Did you really order her?" Daniel asked as Alistair started up the steps, aware of the many pairs of eyes watching the three of them.

"Of course. Rain is good for you. We'll have to convince your mother, though."

"Alistair…"

"He's a _boy_, Elissa. He needs rain and sticks and baths in the lake, and there isn't _nearly_ enough mud on his pants."

"Don't listen to him, Daniel."

"I like listening to him."

Alistair laughed as he followed Elissa upstairs.

… … …

Alistair dug through his trunk of clothes in a fury of impatience, tossing articles of clothing over his shoulder while he searched for something that didn't look like it was either going to choke him or itch unbearably. Behind him, William sighed loudly. "Your Majesty…"

"I'm sure spending a little time on the carpet isn't going to permanently damage anything."

"Actually, the Orlesian silk is particularly temperamental, but I was simply going to point out the fact that you cannot appear at the ball tonight wearing—"

"The ball isn't for three hours."

"All the same, several of the banns have requested a word before—"

"I'm holding audiences tomorrow."

"Your Majesty, I realize that you have already informed them of your plans, but—"

"Look," Alistair snapped, yanking a plain shirt of plain, serviceable linen over his head, "I've catered to the lot of them since I arrived in Redcliffe. They've already got the duration of my stay to hound me. I have only three spare hours before I'm expected to make yet _another_ public appearance, and I'd like to spend them in regular clothes and with my son, if that's quite all right with you."

William looked at the carpet, abashed. "I apologize, Your Majesty. I'll be sure to inform the banns that you are indisposed until this evening."

"Thank you," he said with barely concealed sarcasm before turning to leave. He held up a hand when Maryn began to follow. "You can stand around outside if it makes you feel better, but I'm making this visit alone."

Maryn didn't pause. Alistair sighed and rolled his eyes. He was irate enough when he reached Elissa's room that he only gave it a warning tap before entering, shutting the door with more force than necessary behind him.

Elissa was there, changed into her normal attire with her wet clothes draped over a chair in the corner. She yelped when she saw him and snatched up what was obviously a lacy piece of undergarment, quickly stashing it behind her back.

Alistair couldn't help but laugh at the mortified look on her face. "Oh, come on. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

As soon as the words fell out of his mouth, he realized that though it had been alluded to and shied around, even after discovering he had a son with this woman, it was the first time in all these weeks that either of them had vocally admitted they were intimate once.

Which really had to be an all new level of immaturity.

Elissa laughed nervously. "Well, you haven't. Not these, anyway." The atmosphere lightened, as though saying it out loud somehow put the whole situation into perspective, like trying to be friends and pretending they had never been anything else was part of what was weighing them down. Elissa began gathering up her things. "All the same, Leliana might kill me if I leave water stains on her furniture."

"Where's Daniel?"

"He's downstairs with Aeryc, trying to beg food off the cooks before the feast. He'll be back in a bit." She sat on the couch and curled her legs around her. "You're welcome to wait for him."

"If you don't mind. I haven't got a lot of time…"

"I know." Silence fell between them, thick and heavy. Alistair couldn't think of a single thing to say to break it. He was still in too good a mood to begin the talks about what they were going to do next, and the last thing he wanted to do was bring up the wedding with Elissa. That would just bring back the glaring awkwardness he had just managed to be rid of.

"This used to be easier." He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

She smiled at that and motioned for him to sit down. "Did you ever think, maybe, it was _too_ easy before?" she asked, shifting so she was facing him.

"How do you mean?" He took the proffered seat, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

"The position we were in—we needed each other before we _knew_ each other." She didn't look at him, instead seeing some distant memory that he likely shared. "Sometimes, I wonder if it would have lasted, once the danger was gone. All of our troubles came from the outside. We never had to work on any of our own."

He sighed and leaned back, thinking. Elissa and he had certainly experienced their share of quarreling, and even a full-fledged fight or two, but nothing that had threatened to tear them apart, not until the Landsmeet. "I don't know," he admitted. "You could be right, I suppose. But…" He looked back up at her, gazing into the blue eyes that had once shaped his entire reason for living, reminding him, painfully, that the one problem they had faced between them had ended with her leaving. "I _loved_ you, Elissa. If I start doubting that now, then I have to start doubting everything."

She didn't answer.

"That can't have escaped you," he said, frowning a little.

"I… I don't know," she muttered, looking away. It went through him like a knife, that she doubted him. He had no idea what she had been telling herself for all these years, but it was time to put an end to it. Now.

He inched closer, hesitantly sliding his fingers into her hair. She didn't resist, allowed him to draw her in before her hand came up between them at the last second, fingers splayed across his chest.

"Alistair…"

"So stop me." He was daring her, no matter how softly the challenge was uttered. His lips hovered just above hers, and he silently wondered if he would be able to withdraw if she demanded it. She didn't, and before she could think too much he closed the distance.

She tasted of rain and sunlight, her lips soft and ripe beneath his. He kissed her softly at first, gently feasting on the mouth she had denied him for too many years while his thumb caressed her jaw. The recollections of lying together amidst the scent of smoke and magic swirled in his mind, carrying him back in time to the last time he had felt this way. He drew her closer, softly nudging her lips with his tongue, and she opened up to him, returning the gesture. He nearly groaned at the sensation, her mouth hot and hungry as he remembered it, and he couldn't help but feel a little bit smug because _I knew you were in there _somewhere_, Elissa Cousland_. Her arms slowly curled around his neck, and he felt the fingers on the hand that had somehow found its way to rest on her hip tighten in response, drawing a soft sound from somewhere deep inside her.

He was not prepared for his body's reaction.

Desire descended on him with a violence he was unaccustomed to, stealing any hope he had of rational thought. Elissa responded to his every signal, her body yielding to his silent appeals as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. The feel of her full breasts pressed against him drove him a little crazy, resurrecting memories of soft flesh and timid caresses, whispered confessions and breathless anticipation. The hand on her hip traveled down the outside of her thigh, gripping her leg beneath the knee, and without conscious thought Alistair was guiding her back on the couch as her leg slid up around his hip…

The latch on the door clicked and she shoved him back, scrambling to sit up. He barely had a second to yank his shirt back down—when had _that_ happened?—when Daniel burst into the room, followed closely by Aiden. The child ran through without pausing, only spared them a quick wave before disappearing into his room, and he and Elissa let out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

Aeryc, however, was not as quick to disappear.

"Elissa, I meant to ask you…" his voice trailed off at the sight of them, Elissa tugging her shirt back into place and Alistair running a hand through his finger-mussed hair. Aeryc coughed, looking very much like he was struggling to keep from smirking. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I didn't realize you were here."

"Right. I'm here, because, um…"

"It's none of your business," Elissa said, glowering.

"I'm sincerely glad to hear it. Do you want Daniel with me or Brannon tonight?"

"Brannon can do it. You should be at the ball. You've already missed everything else."

"And it's been such a tragedy. All right, I'll send Brannon over." With a bow towards Alistair, he left. Aiden flopped down on his belly with a short, growly breath that sounded suspiciously like the huff of a mabari laugh.

Elissa practically leapt off the couch, nervously smoothing her hair back. "I should… go."

"Liss…"

"No, you don't need me here just so you can see him." She glanced at Daniel, who emerged from his room with a sweetcake in his hand, grinning from ear to ear. "I'll be back in a bit," she said, bending down to kiss his cheek. "Stay with your da, okay?"

"'Kay, Mama."

She nearly fled the room. Alistair sighed at himself in frustration.

_Nice going, moron_.

… … …

He was in a considerably better mood when he descended the stairs that evening. Elissa had returned after she had pulled herself together a bit, and though she avoided looking at him or encouraging his attention in any way, the afternoon was spent pleasantly enough as he sat on the floor with Daniel and listened to his excited chatter about his life at Vigil's Keep.

He entered the dining hall after the announcement that the king was in attendance—as if everyone didn't already _know_ that—and immediately sought out Elissa. She was seated at the first table on the floor, just after the table of honor. She gave him a small smile in return. That was encouraging, he supposed.

Aware of the gossip occurring behind his back, Alistair was careful to mingle when the ball began, even asking a few of the ladies for a dance, as was expected. His mind was certainly somewhere else, though, and more than once, he was caught only half listening to the conversation. Regardless of his inattention, he still had trouble shaking some of the more determined women off, but not long into the evening Leliana came to his rescue, laughing at him as he twirled her around on the dance floor.

"You've become quite the draw for these events. I always knew you were a catch, Alistair."

"Funny, none of them seemed to notice until about five years ago."

"Well, you didn't know how to dance then."

He laughed. "Years of practice, just so I could be ready for your wedding feast, Leliana."

"So full of flattery! It's no wonder that rather striking blonde girl in the corner seems determined to kill me with her glare."

He winced, having hoped that his friend hadn't noticed. Lyra was becoming increasingly more hostile as the night went on, it seemed. "I suppose I should get around to her before she makes a scene. I wouldn't put it past her. Not overly bright, that one."

"Or," Leliana said with an impish grin, "you could make it known that your interests are rather exclusive these days."

He gave her a weary smile. "Is it that obvious?"

"To those of us that know you, it is painfully so, beloved." She gave an exaggerated sigh. "And yet, she is out there on my balcony as we speak, quite alone and no doubt cold, while you are in here keeping the company of a staid old married woman. I had such high hopes that you had outgrown those shy Chantry ways."

"I _did_, until she came back. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever know what I'm doing when she's around."

"I hope not." She smiled softly as the music came to an end. "It means she still makes you nervous, you see. Love is not love without a touch of stupidity."

Alistair grinned and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Teagan's a lucky man."

"Oh, I know. I remind him of it regularly."

Alistair managed to duck out of the double doors leading out to the balcony without being followed. Elissa stood with her back to him, gazing up at the stars. He joined her silently, leaning on the stone rail. She spared him a glance, but didn't say anything. When the silence stretched between them, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Just so we're clear, am I supposed to pretend that didn't happen earlier?" he asked, turning towards her. "I don't want to muck up anything more than I already have."

"I wouldn't," she said softly. "The last thing this relationship needs is more pretending."

He internally agreed, but she still wouldn't look at him, and he was beginning to feel a little desperate. "Then do you mind telling me what I should do? It'll be like old times. We can laugh about it."

She turned to him, studying him intently as the moonlight played across the different shades of blue in her eyes before she startled him completely by standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was slow and gentle, nowhere near as intense as the one upstairs, but it staggered Alistair just fine, anyway.

"I think we should both admit that it's make or break time, Your Majesty," she whispered against his lips before disappearing into the glittering crowd, leaving him standing there and gaping behind her.


	13. The Harsh Light Of Day

**Chapter Twelve**

_**The Harsh Light of Day**_

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_You were the one I loved_

_The one thing that I tried to hold on to_

_~ Michelle Branch_

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.

For as long as Alistair could remember, he had been an early riser. As a child, he was up with the dawn, waking to the sounds of restless horses and the last of the night's crickets, huddled beneath the comfort of his blankets in the dewy sunshine. The Chantry had only reinforced this habit, kicking the templars in training out of their bunks before daybreak to begin their morning regiment. As an adult, he occasionally allowed himself to lie in a bit after a long night, but it was always accompanied by the nagging feeling that he should be up.

It worked to his advantage on mornings like this one, he thought as he glanced out the window at the sky still purple with the approach of the sun. The audiences he had lined up would be attended by men who were still exhausted from last night's ball and more than likely a little hungover, which would only make his job easier—one of the reasons he had been careful to monitor his drinking the night before. It was always best to have your full wits about you when dealing with the nobility.

And yet, Alistair didn't much feel like getting out of bed that morning.

Since the end of the Blight, he had carefully and deliberately built a new life for himself, constructing a precarious balance between deciding who he wanted to be and who he needed to be. He had approached the kingship the same way he had approached all the other changes that had been forced upon him—fully dedicating himself to the task in hopes that he could somehow retain some sense that it was still his life.

In one fell swoop, Elissa had shifted the balance, thrown his carefully ordered existence into disarray and left him floundering.

He shouldn't be surprised. It was what she did.

He had heard it said that it was common for people to fall into bed with their exes after a wedding. He groaned and rolled over. Well, his victory in overcoming that weakness certainly wasn't owed to a lack of trying. He very likely would have taken Elissa right there on that couch had they not been interrupted. The fact that she almost _let_ him seemed less encouraging this morning, leaving him wondering what they were both were _thinking_. Here they were, fighting over one kid she had kept from him, so naturally his answer was to try to seduce her again.

Probably not the best idea, in hindsight.

It ached to admit it, but the simple fact was he wasn't sure if he trusted her. She had come clean only because she was backed into a corner, and the part of him that second guessed her silently wondered if she would simply try to disappear after they left Redcliffe. The majority of his torn loyalty doubted it—Elissa had too much honor, and certainly too much pride, for such underhanded tactics. Still, the doubt lingered, a whispered wondering that cast a pall over the entire situation.

With a sigh, Alistair shoved himself out of bed. The castle was quiet and still around him. A glance at the sky told him he could likely sneak out of his chambers if he was careful to catch his unguarded door during the change in shifts. He had already made a note of the relaxed security since arriving in Redcliffe. Alistair doubted any would-be assassins knew the holes in his defenses as well as he did.

If Maryn knew how often his king managed to slip out from under his protection to steal a few moments to himself, he would probably have kittens.

Twenty minutes later, he was out in the garden and seated beside the still pond. He had just begun to wonder if it would be horribly improper of him to climb the willow and do his thinking in the swaying branches like he used to, when suddenly he realized he wasn't alone. A dark figure detached itself from the ivy-strewn stone wall. Alistair was on his feet in a flash, his hand on his sword hilt.

"My, you have become rather jumpy over the years, haven't you?"

Zevran wearing black should be _illegal_, he thought sourly after his heart had managed to dislodge itself from his throat. The assassin was still dressed in the finery he had donned for the ball the night before, slightly more rumpled and tired looking in the predawn chill.

Alistair honestly didn't want to know why. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Nothing from you, I assure you. I am simply making my way to the main keep to fetch my charge, and I was forced to leave the chamber I spent the evening in rather, shall we say, _delicately_."

"I see. I really, really don't want to hear it." He sighed, thinking that as long as this outing was ruined, he may as well make his way back to his rooms before anyone noticed he was gone. "If you'll excuse me?"

Zevran didn't respond at first, simply crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting until Alistair stalked past him to speak again. "There is much that you still owe her, Alistair."

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning to glare at the elf. "I'm sorry. Were you under the impression that was any of your business?"

"I stayed," Zevran said, his manner casual, but Alistair was immediately on guard. Zevran's dislike of him had morphed into something more sinister than it had been, revealing itself in icy tones and frigid gazes. There was an undeniable hint of hostility in his voice as he continued, "I have been by her side, where I swore I would remain. It was I who helped to mend what you had _broken_. So yes, I am afraid it is very much 'my business', as you so eloquently put it."

Alistair crossed his arms in imitation of Zevran's posture and quirked his eyebrow. "It almost sounds like you might be threatening me, Arainai."

Zevran laughed, humorless and utterly cold. "Then, Your Majesty, I can only reply that you must have learned _something_ of people during your time on the throne."

"I think it's time we clear something up," Alistair said, advancing until he was only inches away from the assassin's smirking face. "I don't like you. I never liked you. And more importantly, I'm not afraid of you. If not for Elissa, I would have rubbed out the spot you leave on the Wardens a long time ago and considered it a fine day's work."

Zevran tsked. "Bluster is but a sign of insecurity. You waste your breath, my friend. I am well aware of your feelings toward me. This delightful conversation is simply to let _you_ know how little I care." He eyed the man before him with a sly gleam reflecting in the pale green irises. "She wants you. I know this. Yet I would be no kind of friend to her if I didn't ask myself if you are aware of what you took from her. I will not be the one to clean up your mess again, Templar—not without some form of retribution."

"Is that so? You say that you know how I feel, but I don't think that you do. I haven't forgotten that you've been involved in keeping Daniel from me. Don't push me, Zevran."

"I believe you are confused regarding my loyalties," Zevran said, his eyes narrowing. "Allow me to clarify. They do not belong to Ferelden, or its crown, or most certainly, to you."

"A very noble way of seeing things," Alistair said. "Being dedicated to Elissa. Except it excludes the real reason, doesn't it? You were worried about what happened to _you_ if I knew about Daniel." Alistair smiled, satisfied to see the assassin turn wary. "You knew what would have happened if I thought there was even a sliver of a chance I could get her back. You knew I would come for her."

"You did what was right," Zevran said, halting Alistair from building up a full head of steam. The assassin smirked at his stunned expression. "Indeed, I seem to have destroyed some of your assumptions, no? But alas, that is one thing you will not be able to hold to my shame. You were given a difficult decision, and you made it. Do you think I am incapable of understanding such thinking? To prolong the separation would have merely caused unnecessary pain, and it is true that Elissa is the one who chose to keep your offspring a secret. But now, now—it rests solely on you." Zevran carefully let his eyes wander over Alistair's frame. "I will admit, I am not optimistic of the outcome."

"Do you think I enjoyed hurting her?"

"I think you must, given you're frequency of the habit." The assassin stepped forward, still deceptively casual, but his entire demeanor screamed the restraint of a man who longed for violence. "You need to know what you want before you do this, Alistair."

"I already know what I want. It's the same thing I've always wanted."

Zevran heaved a sigh. "Apparently, I waste my time in trying to get through to you, and I have not the time to beat it into your skull, as I would very much like to do. I am to escort Morrigan—you remember her, yes? The other woman you abandoned to her fate? Ah, I see that you do. I am to take her to Vigil's Keep with your _second_ bastard son. But I would not concern myself about it, if I were you. Go back to Denerim, to your rich and well-furnished apartments. I hear you are quite popular there, surrounded constantly by beautiful women who wish only to bed you. Truly, you lead a most trying existan—"

Pushed beyond his endurance, Alistair grabbed the assassin by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the wall. "Don't you _dare_ question what I had to give up," he said, so furious he could barely get the words out. "You know nothing about my life, about what I've been through since I left her behind, so I suggest you shut the fuck up about it." The words tumbled out of his mouth without thought and startled him into silence, even more than the rage behind them.

_Since I left her behind_…

Zevran merely smiled at him, but there was something in his eyes Alistair couldn't remember ever seeing there before, something that looked suspiciously like sympathy. "Killing me will not bring its silence, my friend."

Alistair held him there a moment longer before dropping him unceremoniously to the ground.

Zevran merely hopped back up and dusted off his clothes. "That is truly all I needed to know, my King," he said with a flash of teeth before strolling away towards the gates, completely unconcerned about the simmering man behind him.

It was a long time before Alistair could force himself to calm down.

… … …

The next few days passed quietly enough. As though Zevran and Morrigan had heralded a mass exodus, the crowd of guests slowly cleared out of the castle, leaving more time spent with Leliana and Teagan as well as Elissa and Daniel. Alistair opted to take Wynne's advice and relax, setting aside all but a few of his responsibilities in order to dedicate his time to learning about his son.

For the second time in his life, Elissa was his nearly constant companion. Their relationship was something of a balancing act, a thing of trial and error that erupted into quarreling more than once, but at least it was _there_. She was more open towards him than she had been since even the Landsmeet, yet something in her bearing warned him that any kind of physical advances weren't welcome. He was more than willing to follow her wishes in that regard, determined to avoid a mistake that would jeopardize everything.

Still, he knew that his time was limited, and soon he would have to return to Denerim. Arl Eamon's reports had thus been uneventful, insisting that the court was running smoothly in his absence, but it didn't change the fact he had a job to return to. He wondered how easy it would be to convince Elissa to return to Denerim with him, if only for a little while—probably about as easy as training Aiden to fetch his slippers, he thought gloomily. He could see the same signs in her that he was battling with—she had been gone from her post far longer than he had, and unlike him, her messages from Vigil's Keep were long and involved, reporting minor encounters with the darkspawn all across the northern lands, presumably crawling from the cave Morrigan had spoken of near Highever.

She didn't bring it up, and so neither did he, instead choosing to spend the days taking Daniel for rides through the countryside or simply lounging about the garden while Leliana practiced her newest composition.

After a week or so, a melancholy settled over Elissa that Alistair understood far too well.

They were running out of the time they had together.


	14. Lessons

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Lessons**_

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"_Women get the last word in every argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument."_

_~Author Unknown_

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Elissa scowled darkly at the wooden short sword in Daniel's hand for the hundredth time that day before turning her glare on Aeryc, seated only a few feet away and sharpening his dagger. He only shrugged and smiled his quiet smile, unrepentant. "He wanted one."

She frowned, aware she was sulking and quite comfortable with the fact, leaning back to rest her elbows on the step behind her. Aeryc had often harangued her about her stubborn resistance to raise Daniel as a warrior, and it seemed he had found a new weapon for his arsenal. "Why do I get the feeling it finally dawned on you to ask his other guardian about this?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," he said, distracted as he tested the edge of the wicked looking blade with his thumb. He looked up at the feel of her eyes boring in to him. "You can keep the glowering to yourself. You're the one who brought him here, Elissa. I'm not going to deny the man a say in raising his own child."

"So, he came to _you_, then. Did you even bother to tell him how I felt about it?"

He laughed, a quiet sound beneath his breath. "It's not my place to argue with the King of Ferelden. That's _your_ burden."

_And you get your way this way_, she thought heatedly. _Jerk_.

"I would have thought he'd be out here, given that you two seem to be tied at the wrist recently."

Elissa shot him another dirty look, in no mood to discuss the sudden and admittedly excessive amount of time she was spending in Alistair's company. Since the day of the wedding and her admission that there was obviously still something between them, he had spent every moment he could spare with her and Daniel, coming to her chambers directly after fulfilling his morning obligations (which was about the time she was waking; she had kind of hoped he had softened up and stopped getting up at that Maker-cursed hour of the morning), and reappearing repeatedly throughout the day until he was called away by a frantic servitor for some crisis or another. He always made it a point to join them in the evening, however, stubbornly refusing to see anyone for those couple of hours he set aside to spend with Daniel before his bedtime. He always looked tired during those times, she noted with a stab of guilt, worn thin by having the carpet yanked out from under him, but he was trying, and that more than anything warmed him to her.

It would have been easier if it didn't feel like their relationship was on display. Leliana watched them with faint amusement, Wynne with silent concern, the visiting lords with tactical curiosity. The servants spent far too much time muttering whispers to each other they thought she couldn't hear. She might become more tolerant of Aeryc's teasing once she stopped being the center of local speculation.

"Bann Silgyn had some issue with his taxes and discovered Alistair was still in the area," she explained to clarify his absence. "He didn't have enough time to duck him."

"Isn't Teagan Silgyn's overlord?"

"He is. Alistair's overseeing the dispute, or something to that nature. I don't really know all the details. He was pretty annoyed when he told me about it this morning, and that tends to lead to a lot of sarcastic tangents. I was still too asleep to try to sort it all out."

Aeryc shook his head. "They say every man dreams of being king once in a while. I never will again."

Elissa gave him a crooked smile, sighing internally. "Alistair would be the exception to that rule, ironically enough."

They sat in companionable silence, watching as Daniel attacked the dummy in the yard with mad excitement, swinging wildly. The handful of Grey Wardens still training were careful to stay on the other side of the yard to ensure they didn't accidentally step on him, but Elissa saw the questioning glances pass between them. She couldn't blame them, as adamant as she had been up until this point about any of them giving Daniel anything that resembled a weapon. A few of them glanced in her direction, seeking her reaction to the change, friendly anticipation clear in their gaze. Doubtless more than one was eager to teach "the kid" a trick or two, surrogate big brothers to the child they deemed the little Warden.

Elissa's scowl deepened.

With a sigh, she let her head roll back and closed her eyes, enjoying the rain-scented breeze that heralded another storm before the afternoon was through. It cooled her simmering temper, a weakness she had long since been aware of and fought to control. The infamous Cousland passion burned strongly in her veins, as it did in Fergus, but while he chose to rant and rave and stomp around when the mood took him, she had learned at an early age to rein it in, lest it burst forth and expose her heart to those undeserving of it.

The sunshine pooled around her, warm and soothing. Summer had come early to Redcliffe; hot, shining mornings followed by rainy afternoons, and always the permeating smell of fish that hung over the entire town. It bothered the merchants who came in droves through the busy docks to trade more than it did her. Elissa had fallen in love with the town almost at once the first time she saw it, a place so like her Highever home with its quaint structures and simple expectations. Only Highever wasn't nestled in a vast blanket of deep, earthy red, and didn't sit on the shores of an impossibly blue lake, whose surreal stillness could perfectly reflect the red and gold sunsets across its smooth, glassy surface.

"Hold up a second, killer."

Her eyes flew open at the sound of the voice. Alistair had seemingly appeared from out of nowhere, stepping out of the long shadows cast by the collection of sheds, where he had apparently been watching Daniel. She saw the door on the far side of the yard standing slightly ajar and chuckled to herself. It was an easy thing to imagine Alistair deciding to use his knowledge of the castle's less frequented corridors and come through a damp, spidery cellar just to avoid being cornered.

Daniel froze in mid-swing, looking up at him with a bright, happy smile that Alistair returned automatically as he crouched down in front of the child and placed a hand on the small arm that still crossed his body. "Tell me, can you see where that sword is right now?"

"Umm…" He stared straight ahead, concentrating. "No."

"First lesson is: always be aware of your weapon. Try to keep it only where you can see it for now. And here." He deftly adjusted Daniel's grip. "Have at it."

Daniel nodded happily and went back to work, his brow furrowed with effort, taking the lesson to heart as seriously as he did his other studies.

Elissa felt her temper begin to rise again. Giving him a wooden sword was one thing—this was another matter entirely, and one he could have learned her feelings about quite easily if he had bothered to _ask_. She slapped her open hands down on the step she was seated on and bolted upright in frustration. "That does it."

"Careful, Liss," Aeryc called she stalked over to where Alistair leaned against the rail, his attention divided between Daniel and an official looking document in his hand.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Alistair only gave her a disinterested look and continued reading. "I'm making sure he doesn't take out anyone's kneecaps."

"Oh. Because it looked to me like you have some idea of training him to fight." Her eyes narrowed on him despite the airiness of tone.

Alistair was careful to keep his eyes on the parchment, quite deliberately not looking at her. "He has to spend his entire life watching his mother ride off to war. Teaching him how to defend himself will help."

Her hands dropped to her hips, but she had the presence of mind to keep her voice too low for Daniel to overhear. "You expect a four-year-old to take up arms, do you? Do you have any other completely outlandish ambitions for him I should know about?"

He sighed. "Aaand the gloves come off." He gave her an amused look, crossing his arms and shifting back a bit as if settling in for an argument. "Seriously, Elissa, what are you going to feel like when he's fifteen and still has to run for cover? You're never going to have a quiet life as Commander of the Grey. Let him integrate already."

"He's too young!"

"He's _not_. Training will occupy his mind and his time, and keep him from feeling completely helpless every time you have to go hunt darkspawn."

He was beginning to make a disturbing kind of sense. She didn't care for it much. "That's not the point! The point is that I've been pretty adamant about this in the past, and you just came in and walked all over it. It doesn't work that way, Alistair."

She was treading a fine line here and she knew it. Fighting women with no surname didn't dictate to kings who fathered their children—they were dictated to. Fortunately for her, Alistair had always seemed to respond well to women who were notorious dictators. Instead of getting angry, he flinched at the accusation, dropping his eyes. "Technically, I didn't really walk all over it, I just—maybe nudged it to the side a little…" He seemed to shrink under her gaze and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay. I suppose I've used up all my 'I'm brand new to this' excuses for the week?"

"Several times over."

"I'm sorry, then. Really. I won't do it again. Deliberately, anyway." He tilted his head to the side, looking at her curiously. "Why are you so against him learning?"

She wasn't prepared for that, and struggled a bit, trying to come up with a satisfactory answer. The simple truth was that her time as Warden Commander hadn't come without its price. Years of battle had seared horrible images into her mind, tainted her dreams with screams and blood and death. She couldn't even remember the last time she had made it through the night without waking up in a cold sweat, trembling. She wanted to spare Daniel that for as long as possible, even when he began to walk and talk and run, and she knew that he was rapidly reaching an age where she would have to face up to making sure he could take care of himself.

She wasn't ready to reveal that to Alistair, though, still leery of giving him too much. "He needs to concentrate on his studies. Regardless of what happens, he's the heir to a powerful holding."

"Ah, the whole brain being more important argument." _So he _did_ know I didn't want him learning_, she thought with familiar, halfhearted annoyance. _Prick_. "You know, funny thing—I learned to read _and_ fight, and at the same time, too. As I recall, so did you. Interesting, the way that works." She growled under her breath, but he only shrugged. "I'm only saying. You and I might not be the leading authorities on a whole lot of things, Elissa, but we both know how to come out of a scrap with all our parts attached. It's ridiculous not to teach him the same thing."

She ran her fingers through her hair and gave an exaggerated sigh, letting her head roll back in defeat. "You're right."

"I'm—wait, what?"

She laughed at his look of surprise. "You're right, I suppose. I'm just so afraid he'll get hurt, I guess I didn't…" She shook her head, clearing it of the darker thoughts. "I'll begin training him, once we get back to Vigil's Keep." She gave him a stern look, but it was purely for effect. Her irritation had dissolved into resignation. "Don't think this is the best way to get me to come around, though."

"Never." He hesitated, his eyes darting about nervously. "Um, I might be trying my luck, asking you this now, but… even if we don't… I mean…" he let out a breath of frustration. "He'll be in Denerim sometimes, won't he? I'd really like the chance to oversee his lessons myself. It's… important to me."

She sighed and moved to lean against the rail beside him, her arms crossed. "He will."

He smiled, too overjoyed at the idea to let a thing like distance dampen it, and she couldn't regret her concession.

Still, she thought with a roguish smile, a little revenge never hurt anybody. "Huh. I didn't realize the rigors of battle appealed to you so much, Your Majesty," she said innocently, laughing when he began to stammer, trying to formulate a proper comeback. "Do you even train anymore?"

"Do I even…? You watch yourself, woman."

She only shrugged, grinning. Alistair raised an eyebrow before pushing himself up from his perch. "Right. Let's go then."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, following him with her eyes as he made his way to the weapons rack and tossed her a blunted longsword.

"Come on, Speedy. See if you can get a touch in."

She caught it easily and snorted. "Oh, no. I'm not about to be the idiot who injured the King of Ferelden."

"Oho! Now I'm well and truly challenged. Here, I'll even make it easy for you." He reached back with a smile and chose a shorter blade as well. "Two handed. Both of us." He laughed when she blinked at him in surprise. "You know you're dying to show me up."

The temptation she felt must have been plain on her face, to judge by the smile that turned abruptly shrewd as he watched her. She could feel the smile pulling at her lips, and Alistair gave her his most charming grin. "Come on, Commander—I _dare_ you."

She laughed and began to gather up her hair, winding it into a knot. "Daniel, go sit with Aeryc while I put your father in his place."

Elissa had barely secured her hair back and chosen her own off-hand blade before the yard was being filled, the Grey Wardens in the area calling out that the commander was fighting the king. She saw the look of annoyance on Maryn's face as he and the other guards shoved their way to the front, right up against the fenced boarder of the sandy field where the Wardens trained. Leliana and Teagan appeared at the upstairs window to the study, looking curiously for what was causing the commotion. Leliana took in the scene below and began laughing brightly. She put her fingers to her lips and threw her arm out wide in an exaggerated gesture of blowing her a kiss. Elissa laughed and returned it.

Alistair practically bounced in place in the center of the field, smiling widely. Despite her teasing, Elissa knew that two weapons or not, she was going to have a hard time of it, generally relying on her speed to wear her opponents down. She knew from many nights of sparring beside the campfire that she couldn't put so much as a dent in Alistair's energy.

Not before he wiped the floor with her, anyway.

"Just to first touch?" she asked for clarification, loosening up her arms.

"Just to first touch."

She grinned and lifted her weapons.

He came in fast, immediately putting her on the defensive as she parried attack after attack, forcing her to back up, giving him the advantage. She saw his strategy, to quickly back her into a corner and limit her range. She braced one leg behind her and began delivering a few strikes of her own, trying to get him to back off just enough for her to get into a more strategic position.

He saw her tactic and swung low with the longsword, trying to throw her off balance, but she smoothly dove out of the way, catching herself on her hands rolling back up into a crouch. She came up with her blades lifted out over her head just in time to parry a downward swing before she leapt to her feet and aimed a sideways kick in his direction, forcing him to jump back. The crowd muttered around them in happy surprise, perhaps not realizing that where sparring was concerned, Alistair and Elissa always went full speed—they were both cutthroat players in this particular game.

They began to circle, and she was helpless to disguise her smile of appreciation. "You've been training in dual wielding, you wretched sandbagger!"

"And you've apparently joined the Antivan Acrobats you… cheater!"

She laughed and held her ground, daring him to make the next move, familiar enough with his style to know he wouldn't be able to resist the taunt.

She wasn't disappointed. He came in first, alternating his attacks: high, low, high, low, she saw it when the dagger began to flash in from the side and snapped her sword up, knocking it from his hand. He raised an eyebrow but smiled, unconcerned at the disadvantage, and yielded only slightly, backpedaling across the field. He was fast—much faster than Elissa remembered, the longsword moving in a blur of motion as he fended off every attack she could throw at him.

Concentrating only on finding a hole in his defenses and gaining momentum to reach her full speed, she didn't realize what he was doing until he dove and snatched up the fallen dagger. She instantly shifted her grip to prepare for the onslaught when he came up swinging. For several seconds both of them refused to give up any ground, locked in place and hammering away before Elissa caught his longsword in a crossdown and he slashed out with the dagger. She barely had time to throw herself back.

He smiled, breathing heavily from exertion but happier than she had seen him in years. "This all you got, Commander?"

"I didn't see any call to embarrass you in front of your subjects, Your Majesty."

He laughed and charged in. He was attacking relentlessly now, using his superior stamina and strength to his full advantage, trying to wear her down. Elissa fell back to defend, waiting for a hole, and when she saw his left side exposed she feigned in. Alistair moved the dagger into position to block and she changed direction at the last second, spinning around to bring the blade up to the side of his neck at the same time he dodged to the side and caught her in her ribs—a simultaneous touch.

"Damn it!" she cried, looking down at the gleaming blade resting against her side.

The crowd erupted in delighted yelling and Alistair burst into laughter, draping his arm around her shoulders. "That was very kind of you, to let me save face like that."

"Right. That's what happened," she said, exaggerating her shortness of breath, and he laughed again, pulling her in closer for a fraction of a second in a one-armed hug as they made their way to the edge of the field to allow the Wardens to continue their training. Daniel came running up with Aiden on his heels, wide-eyed with excitement.

"You _can_ fight as good as Mama!"

Alistair laughed and waved off her questioning look. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Your Majesty!" a courier came jogging across the yard with a sealed letter in hand. "This arrived for you by falcon, Sire. A report from Denerim."

Alistair took the letter with a nod. Elissa frowned and set Daniel on the fence, snatching up a clean towel to mop off her face. "Do you really make Eamon report to you every day?"

"Only the days I'm not there," he muttered as he read over the letter.

She began toweling off her hair, trying not to sound too curious. "What—you don't trust him to avoid an uprising while you're gone?"

He glanced up. "Seeing as how my grandmother was murdered, my father sent into exile, and my half-brother betrayed by his own wife's father—not so much, no."

"That's a cynical little remark."

"Color me paranoid."

She frowned, tossing the towel back on the rail. "You're not helping your case, you know."

She got a look for that, but he didn't say anything, instead folding up his letter and tucking it into his tunic. "I supposed I'd better get cleaned up. Silgyn has likely finished consulting his advisors by now. I need to get back to him," he said, honest regret in his eyes. "I'll see you both later tonight."

… … …

Upstairs, Teagan shook his head, a little unnerved. "Maker's breath, I thought they were going to kill each other out there."

Leliana laughed. "You were not there at the beginning, my love. Alistair and Elissa's relationship stemmed from being little more than playmates. There was once a time, before everything, that I thought there could not be two people more alike. They were such a delightful pair to travel with."

He smiled at her. "I remember when all of you came to Redcliffe quite clearly. Battered and half-starved, and covered in blood more often than not. Only you could derive 'delightful' from that."

"Ah, but you did not get to experience the rare moments in between. I have always believed that it was they who enabled us to end the Blight," she said. "Not by whatever it is that makes them Grey Wardens, or even their skill in battle, but by the simple act of being who they are."

"Elissa has a strong will, and a sharp mind," Teagan said slowly. "One could argue that she would make a splendid queen." He chuckled. "Provided she can learn to keep those blades sheathed."

"But that is Elissa's way." She smiled sidelong at her husband. "If she cannot beat some sense into someone through talk, she will move on to the literal context. It is one of her more admirable traits, I think."

… … …

Alistair was escorting the visiting bann to the great hall to ready for his departure when he heard the news. Silgyn was an imposing man, a country lord with a rather admirable frankness to his demeanor and a strong sense of knowing his survival rested on the people he ruled over. It was fortunate that he was reputed to run a rather rough court himself, because as they made their way to the castle entrance, Aiden chose that moment to come galloping around the corner, something dangling from his mouth and Daniel in hot pursuit behind him.

"Give me back my shoe!"

They came tearing through the hall, nearly knocking over several members of Silgyn's honor guard before Alistair collared the dog with one hand and caught the boy with the other. After a brief struggle he managed to separate the two. Brannon jogged up behind them.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. He got away from me."

"So I see." He glanced up at the young man, who flinched under his gaze. "Don't let it happen again."

"No, Your Majesty."

"Good. Now then, _you_ can pull the slobbery shoe out of that dog's mouth. Let that be a lesson to you."

Aiden growled, and Alistair could swear the animal was grinning.

Silgyn gave a grunt of amusement. "You certainly seem to have your hands full these days, My Liege." He looked over at Daniel, sizing the child up with an intensity that made Alistair nervous. Before he could say anything, the man merely grunted again and took his leave.

Alistair ran a hand over his face. So—the speculation was already spreading.

"Da! The Grey Wardens are here!" Alistair's attention snapped back to the child in surprise. Daniel had refrained from calling him much of anything at this point, and Elissa hadn't mentioned if he spoke about him when he wasn't around…

The words sank in and he caught Daniel by the shoulder as he tried to scamper away again, shoe in hand. "What did you say?"

"Grey Wardens from home. There's a whole lot of them. Mama says they're coming to Highever with us."

He already knew Elissa had sent for reinforcements to uncover the cave Morrigan spoke of, but they weren't supposed to have arrived for a few days, at least. "Where's your mother?"

"She's packing."

Reality closed in around him, dark and suffocating, and he barely managed to tell Brannon, "Take Daniel to the gardens," before turning and rushing for the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste.


	15. Lie To Me

**Chapter Fourteen**

_**Lie To Me**_

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_Just give me a reason— just a little bit's enough_

_Just a second— we're not broken, just bent_

_And we can learn to love again_

_I never stopped—you're still written in the scars on my heart…_

_~P!nk_

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Elissa scrubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands. It didn't seem to help. They still felt wrong, stinging and aching, and she grit her teeth and flipped her hair over her shoulder in annoyance as she continued to shove her belongings into her trunk without the care she usually took. She cursed the powers that be for whatever drove them to put her on the same road as Alistair that day. If she had only set out a day sooner or a day later… well then, Alistair would likely be dead right now, but it was hard to keep that conclusion in mind in her current mood.

Five years she had spent actively forgetting, refusing to dwell on what couldn't be helped as she built a life for herself in Amaranthine. If occasionally her thoughts would wander back to Alistair, when Daniel took his first steps or uttered his first words, well, that was natural enough. It was a good life; she had the Grey Wardens and Zevran and... Jaedan...

Part of this was his fault as well, she thought angrily, and the ache in her eyes increased. Handsome and brave and as reckless as his smile, always charging into a scrap with a whoop and a grin, and each time she would take him to task.

_Honestly, Jaedan, you're going to get yourself _killed_._

The loss still burned, and she rubbed at her eyes again, breath hissing through her teeth as she silently cursed him as well; for leaving her, for taking away the small light he had provided in a world of darkness and death, and for making her see and think and realize just how _alone_ she was.

As the months passed and her grief lessened, pooling into a bitter ache for the loss of one of her comrades, she found herself seeing more than ever the small likenesses Daniel shared with his father that she had so determinedly ignored before. There was a certain way that he tilted his head when he was puzzled, the way his eyes would light up just before he smiled that hurt to recognize. She found herself thinking of Alistair more often than ever, revealing not only the shameful truth that she had never truly loved Jaedan, but she was not yet over _him_.

The idea that Jaedan had been a pleasant distraction, forever implanted in her mind as second, was almost more than she could bear. Just yet another sin to darken her already tarnished honor.

And here she was, again placing her wellbeing in the hands of the man who couldn't seem to decide what he wanted, who didn't trust her and made her mind spiral in useless circles when he was near.

It was enough to put anyone in a foul mood.

She slammed the lid of the trunk shut and cast an accusing glare at the ceiling. "What—you didn't have anything better to do?"

The Maker offered no response.

… … …

Elissa was huddled in the corner of the couch when Alistair burst into the room, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. He recognized the posture as a sign that she had been brooding—and a lot. He had learned rather quickly to proceed with caution when she took this pose, curled up as if to physically bottle in whatever she was feeling and easily provoked to somewhat fearsome displays of temper if goaded.

Since he had never really been able to control his wry humor, it had made for some colorful encounters on more than one occasion.

"I know," she said before he could speak. "I didn't realize they would get here so soon."

"So you're leaving?" he asked, out of breath from his sprint up the stairs. "Just like that?"

"I don't seem to have much of a choice." Her voice was darker than usual, thick and guarded. "The others tell me they ran into several raiding groups on their way here. Apparently taking Kern away has left the darkspawn in an uproar."

He flinched at the name, staring moodily at the ground and resisting the urge to kick something in frustration. "I'm not ready for you to be gone again," he said, hardly caring anymore if that sounded selfish or not. He had given up enough to the darkspawn and Morrigan. It shouldn't be so much to ask that he be allowed to straighten things out without one crisis after another taking Elissa away again. He just needed more time.

Except Elissa was married to her position as the Commander of the Grey more thoroughly than she had ever been to him, and in this particular case, he didn't see any hope of talking her into letting Aeryc take care of it for a change. Kern was their responsibility—no matter how much he may have wished it otherwise.

He sighed. "You're going to your family's home first, I assume?"

She nodded, uncurling herself at the mention of her home. "Yes. Fergus has been grousing for months that Daniel won't even recognize him by the time I get around to visiting. Let him feed and shelter us for a while. I can leave Daniel there while I search for this cave. He'll be safe enough at the castle."

He crossed his arms, a reoccurring stray thought leading his mind away from the immediate situation. "Settle a point of curiosity for me, will you? How did you manage to keep Fergus from telling me about Daniel? He's as stubborn as you are."

"He doesn't know. At least, I don't _think_ he does. I never came right out and told him. And the resemblance isn't so obvious when you two aren't standing right next to each other."

Alistair couldn't help a twisted grin at the thought of Fergus Cousland kept in the dark regarding the paternity of his only sister's child. "I'm sure he wasn't at all furious about that."

She offered him a ghost of a smile. "He even threatened to disinherit me once or twice. He was always exceptional at bluster—it doesn't mean it got him anywhere."

"Of course. Silly me." He ran his fingers through his hair, racking his brain for a solid way to make sure he was going to see her again before too much more time had passed. If only the summer wasn't approaching—the busiest and most demanding time in his court.

The talk of Fergus, however, reminded him of Bann Silgyn's reaction to Daniel, and another problem he had been skirting around for too long. "Elissa," he said at last, "we have an issue that we've been putting off."

She was huddled in a ball again. "Do we?"

"You know, the doe-eyed innocent act was never all that convincing on you." She narrowed her eyes on him and straightened up. "I don't want to belittle…whatever it is you and I are doing. But whatever happens between us, it doesn't really change Daniel's situation. I need to officially name him as my heir, and soon, or this is going to get really, really sticky."

She didn't answer or move, and with the thought that he must be more unstable than he realized to bring this up when she was in this mood, Alistair flopped onto the couch beside her. "I know how much you hate the idea, but whether or not you may like this situation is irrelevant at this point. Daniel _is_ the heir to the throne."

She was going to argue, he could see it in the flash of her eyes, but Alistair forestalled her with a raised eyebrow, daring her to try to use the argument of bastard blood against him—her of all people.

She caught herself before she could make that mistake.

"You grew up in this world—you know exactly what's going on right now," he said softly.

She lowered her head, her fingers laced behind her neck. He didn't have to tell her that the nobility would have already begun plotting; deciding what should be done about this development. Even now, there would be meetings disguised as visits, the more powerful men involved testing the waters to see how much support they could muster, conversations dancing around the subject so carefully it could only be described as a form of cant—all wondering if the Landsmeet would accept this bastard son or demand that the king find a wife now, to provide a legitimate heir before Daniel came of age and became a threat. And Anora—she would leap on this chance to get herself back on the throne, was probably already fully aware of what was happening and laying out her own plans.

"I never wanted this to happen to him," Elissa murmured.

"And I never wanted it to happen to me, but it did," he said. "You know that even if I do marry, there's no guarantee I can provide another heir." She didn't answer. "I don't want him to be in the position I was in. I'd much rather he's ready, when the time comes. Let him learn what he needs to learn now, like he's supposed to."

"Unless you plan to get married tomorrow, we still have time—"

"No, we don't." She still didn't look up, and he pressed on, "We also can't ignore the fact that I'm too much like Cailan in some regards." She finally glanced at him through her eyelashes, and he explained, "I'm never going to learn to lead from the rear. I'm constantly getting into the thick of things—if something happens to me, we're putting Daniel in a much more dangerous situation. They already know, and the factions that will form will all be fighting around him."

"You're ten times the warrior Cailan ever was, and I've never seen a man as eager to take a blade in the gut in the name of duty as Maryn. I'd say your safer than most."

"Oh yeah? Keep in mind that the Theirin line has a bad habit of losing their throne and then leaving it to the next heir to go fetch it back."

"Generational gap. You're the one who fetched it—you'll be fine."

"Elissa…"

"Oh, all right!" She got up and began pacing, flipping her long braid over her shoulder in a sign of her agitation.

He immediately felt guilty, whether or not any of this was actually his doing. Trying to figure out who was responsible would only make his head hurt. "I don't have any intention of taking him away from you, you know. They could see it as a simple matter of fosterage, and you being a Cousland will help to keep the grumbling under control."

"No, it won't," she snapped. "He's not a teyrn or bann's son. The country will never stand for the crown prince living in Amaranthine, and they'd be right. He needs to be in Denerim."

He sighed again and leaned forward, watching her. "I'm guessing you're not going to make this easy and let me ask you to marry me."

Her pacing stopped immediately, brought her attention barreling back to him. Her eyes softened momentarily, but after a moment of agonizing consideration she shook her head. "I can't."

"I didn't think so." He ran his hands over his face, disappointed but not surprised. "Would it be out of the question for me to ask why not?"

She regarded him sadly. "Tell me you'd still make the offer if Daniel weren't involved."

"I think I already proved that once."

"And now?"

He sighed and didn't answer. He couldn't _know_, obviously, but the fact he had gone all these years without going after her was probably a stronger argument than he was prepared to counter just at this moment. It was answer enough, and she resumed her pacing. He remained silent, unsure what else he could say. He shoved himself to his feet and crossed his arms, waiting for her conclude whatever internal battle was taking place.

At length she stopped, confusing him for a moment when she oddly cast a glare at the ceiling, and sat back down. "Give me a year."

He dropped his arms, afraid he'd heard incorrectly. "What?"

"Give me a year, after I return to Amaranthine, to train my replacement. I'll come and head up the Grey Warden compound in Denerim."

"Ah, Elissa—I'm not arguing, not in the slightest, but, couldn't Aeryc...?"

She immediately shook her head. "Aeryc will want come with me." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, suddenly suspicious. "Arl Eamon went to a great deal of trouble to keep Daniel hidden from you. You don't think he'll try anything, do you?"

"It's doubtful. Eamon wants an heir as badly as the rest of the Landsmeet. He'd likely have dragged you back kicking and screaming if he knew what you were really about. He probably just pitched your letters into the fire without a second glance." He scowled into the empty fireplace. "Eamon's been hinting around for an opportunity to travel to Orlais. I think it's high time I gave it to him. It'll give him time to contemplate his new retirement."

She gave him a weak smile. "You'll feel differently in a month or so."

"Don't be so sure of that."

She shrugged, not overly concerned about the fate of Arl Eamon. She had never gotten along with him. She leaned back in her position, curled tighter than she was before.

Alistair frowned and considered asking her if the move to Denerim would really be as bad as all that, but a rare flash of insight stopped him. He hadn't taken the time to consider what the situation was going to do to Elissa if she refused to marry him. In enough time, it wouldn't matter that she was the Commander of the Grey or the Hero of Ferelden. The people would turn on her. Whether or not she was sharing his bed, she would forever be regarded as his kept mistress, gossiped about behind her back and, Maker forbid, harshly resented by his future queen.

And she knew it.

He wanted nothing more than to promise her that it would be okay, that he would make it okay—right now threatening to _hang_ anyone who said one wrong word about her didn't seem overly unreasonable—but the look in her eyes warned him to keep his distance and he swallowed the empty reassurances.

Instead he jammed his hands in his pockets and dropped his eyes, shamed that he had ever doubted, because even though she would rant and rave and pull her hair out, she would do what she believed was right, in the end. She always did.

"Thank you, Elissa."

… … …

Alistair decided to ride out to the bridge that marked the northern border of Redcliffe with the departing Grey Wardens the next morning. They traveled in a large group, the full royal guard and twenty Wardens, and so the going was slow. Not that he minded. Daniel rode in front of him, even more subdued than usual, and though he had spoken to him that morning, assuring him that it would be a brief separation, he wondered to himself just how much the boy understood of what was happening.

The bridge appeared around mid-morning, arching over a river swollen with the spring thaw that ran through the thick forest. The riders began to dismount, preparing to separate, and Elissa set Daniel on the ground with a quiet warning. "Go run around as much as you can for a bit. We'll be riding the rest of the day."

He nodded and promptly wrapped his arms around Alistair's leg before scampering off.

"You know, you look like you're headed to a funeral," she remarked once the boy was out of earshot.

He shrugged. "I'm sorry. I'm being incredibly ungrateful, but being away from him for a year sounded a lot easier when we were just talking about it."

"It's not going to be a full year before you see him, though, right?"

He shook his head and reached for her hand. "I'll be in Amaranthine in the fall, just after the harvest."

_Ask her to stay_.

He was less familiar with jealousy than he had imagined during the days of the Blight, having always suffered a twang of resentment towards the assassin, but it was nothing like the dread that pooled now. Elissa was beautiful and intelligent and nearly worshiped by a great deal of men who _hadn't_ walked out on her, and she hadn't promised him anything but his son.

"Elissa?" he began, unsure how to voice his next question without offending her. "I…that is, will you…?"

"I'll wait for you," she said with a small smile, understanding. "I promise. I owe you this chance, at least."

He gave her fingers a gentle tug, drawing her in to kiss her, uncaring of who may have been watching. It was soft and lingering, a muted attempt at trying to convey the things he couldn't seem to figure out how to say. He didn't release her right away, resting his forehead against hers to delay letting her go, and for a moment he saw the same regret shadowed in her eyes.

Beg_ her to stay_.

She pulled away first. "I'll see you in a few months," she said quietly before walking away from him, yelling for her Wardens to mount up.

_Alistair, you're being an idiot…again! _"Elissa, wait…"

He didn't get the chance to utter whatever he had been about to say. At that second he felt a sickening, rolling pull, and every Warden in the area stopped what they were doing and whirled around, disbelieving, before the warnings broke out. Elissa met his wide-eyed look and reached for her swords.

"Alistair—take Daniel!" she cried, before running to join her Wardens just as the ogre crashed through the trees.

… … …

Aeryc felt the rolling tug at the same time as the others, and even before the shock had a chance to set in he was running, sword in hand as he made a straight line for Daniel. Alistair got to him first and quickly deposited the boy in the shelter of a clump of bushes.

"You stay here and close your eyes," he said. "Don't come out for _anything_. Aiden!" The mabari obeyed immediately, quickly dashing over to stand protectively in front of Daniel, his feet firmly planted and his teeth bared, snarls ripping from his chest.

Drawing his sword, Alistair shoved one of the members of the royal guard towards them. "Go—help the mabari protect the boy," he ordered, and took off at a run for the bridge, where Elissa and the Grey Wardens fought to control a horde of darkspawn that continued to pour from the trees, outnumbering them.

It was all Aeryc could do not to order the unarmored man back, but Alistair was already headed for the emissary that appeared at the edges of the mob, pausing only to point out a second one to Aeryc. Maryn was swearing aloud as he ran behind his king. Aeryc had no choice but to obey, dashing for the emissary and sending out a burst of will that knocked the creature to the ground. Before it could rise, he had skewered through the throat, the uncomfortable but familiar sensation of shattered magic assuring him it was dead. A high, teeth-rattling shriek split the air and he whirled around just as an insect-like creature with frenzied eyes tackled him, throwing him to the ground and knocking the sword from his hand.

Darren was right on its tail, his blades whirling in a blur of motion to draw the monster off and allow Aeryc to roll to his feet. They were being swarmed—the mobbing shrieks surrounded him, wailing and clawing at his eyes while the Wardens fought to keep the enemies contained at the bridge.

He saw, but only just saw, the ogre rise above the rest, letting out a ferocious roar before it lowered its head and charged. Elissa was launched back and crashed through the railing with a muffled cry. Aeryc was helpless to react as she plummeted, fully armed, into the violent waters below.

A scream of terror pierced the air above the heavy din of battle. "_Mama_!"

Daniel had seen her go over.

A clash, a howl, and Aeryc saw Alistair tear away from the mob at a full sprint and dive headlong into the frothing waters after her.

Aeryc plunged his sword into the back of one of the shrieks and caught the eye of the first royal guard he could. "Get them out of the river!" Whether they heard or reached the same conclusion, he didn't care, so long as they were out of the way. Shoving Darren along by his shoulder, they charged the ogre. It fell quickly enough between the two of them, and as Aeryc jerked his blade out of the monster's head he searched frantically for Elissa and Alistair above the dying battle.

He finally spotted them far downstream, clambering onto the grassy bank of the river. Elissa promptly collapsed and Alistair was on all fours, breathing heavily. The guards were barely beginning down the steep slope to reach them—the king had managed to get them to shore on his own strength, apparently.

Aeryc caught the nearest Warden standing near him without paying any attention to who it was. "Round up ten and scout the area for more, and tell me if you find any sign of the witch or that _blasted assassin_!" He was running before he finished speaking, rushing to Elissa to assure himself she was okay.

"Are you insane?" Maryn was yelling as the king clutched at the grass on the bank beneath his hands, struggling for air. "I'm sworn to keep you alive. You could at least not try to kill yourself!"

Alistair waved him off. "Not to worry," he gasped. "I used to swim this river as a kid all the time." He sat up, dripping from head to toe and smiling. "Of course, it's a bit less dodgy in late summer."

Daniel hurdled past all of them and threw himself into his mother's arms just as she was sitting up. She cringed in pain, favoring her arm, but closed her eyes in sheer relief at the knowledge he was safe. Aeryc put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Daniel, back off a bit."

It only made him clutch her tighter, tears streaming down his face. "He's fine," Elissa whispered, kissing his curls. "Oh, my poor love. I'm so sorry. You must have been so scared."

Alistair reached over and gently shifted Daniel to the grass without his notice, where he could still cling to his mother without crushing her.

"Thank you," Elissa murmured, holding her arm.

"Is it broken?" Alistair asked, moving closer, and Aeryc thought his voice sounded higher than usual, breathless and concerned. He slid his arm around her and Elissa curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she struggled for breath.

The king's guards looked appalled that he would endanger himself that way over a woman, and Aeryc was positive that Maryn was about to continue his rant with a very colorful version of his opinion, but cool glares from the lieutenant commander and at least a dozen Wardens silenced him.

"You're not supposed to be doing stuff like this anymore," Elissa said, but there was no heat behind her words.

The king laughed at that and drew her closer, but Aeryc did not miss the look of nearly painful terror that had yet to fade from his eyes before he squeezed them shut, pressing his lips to her hair. "Neither are you."


	16. Fool For Love

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Fool For Love**_

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_Got the time, got a chance, gonna make it_

_Got my hands on your heart, gonna take it_

_~Def Leppard_

.

.

Elissa in a state of pure impatience was enough to make quite a few people nervous. Not Alistair, necessarily, but his guards were eyeballing her like they were afraid she was going to start throwing things at him.

Which she just might, come to think.

Elissa had been steadily pacing across the study for almost an hour now—back and forth, back and forth, pausing only to shoot him an occasional glare. He supposed he should at least be grateful it was a quiet wrath—she was barefoot. With all of her belongings packed away and the clothes she had been wearing hung out to dry, she had been forced to borrow a simple white dress from Leliana, one that laced up the front and fell in wide pleats from her hips to just above her knee. It was a little strange, to see her in so familiar a posture in such an unfamiliar get-up.

Her nervous and very _annoying_ habit on top of the guards' twitchy reactions was a bit more tension then he preferred while trying to recover from a near-death experience. "Maryn," he said briskly. "Hallway."

"Your Majesty?"

"Go on—get out. I think I can handle one disgruntled female."

Elissa glowered at him and continued pacing. The guards were careful to stay out of her path as they filed out of the room.

Alistair leaned back in the chair and sighed loudly. She ignored him, still angry. But he knew the difference between Elissa in a rage and Elissa in a sulk, and it was certainly the latter. Truthfully, he was somewhat pleased to see her agitated enough that that infuriating cocoon of self-control she had dwelled in since coming back was beginning to show some cracks.

"You're going to wear a groove in Leliana's floor," he said.

"Well then she can set this room aside for when I visit," she said, still distracted, and he bit back another sigh. This particular habit of hers had always set his teeth on edge, even more so now than it did when they traveled together. But then, he _used_ to have another way of distracting her, when she got like this.

And other ways to reaffirm life after nearly dying.

Why did she have to be wearing that dress again?

"The scouts should be back in only a little while, Elissa."

"I'd know that for certain if I were _with_ them."

She was irate enough not to bother pulling any punches, apparently. He knew he was asking for it when he ordered her to stay behind while the other Wardens scouted the woods. "That mob appearing the moment someone ventured from the town was just a little too convenient for me. Those darkspawn were hovering for some reason, and I'd rather I knew what that reason was."

"So it only makes sense to keep the commander of the Grey Wardens here. Oh, wait—no it _doesn't_." She stopped pacing and set her hands on her hips.

Very nicely defined hips.

_Focus_. Angry woman. Not for ogling.

She was eying him reproachfully, but there was curiosity in her gaze as well. "Maker's breath, Alistair, what's gotten into you? We went through a Blight together. You were never this over-protective before."

_Because I was always with you before_.

_Because as long as I was capable of dragging myself in front of you, you were safe, even if I never would have been stupid enough to tell _you_ that_.

_Because you almost _died_, and I'm not letting you out of my sight for a long, long time_.

"I don't want you going anywhere until we can be sure that was a stray group. Besides, Wynne barely had a chance to put your arm back together, and you need to let it heal." He smiled when she rolled her eyes at that. "Face it, Elissa, as long as I'm here, you're outranked."

She snorted, crossing her arms. "Technically, this is a Grey Warden matter, and as such, you fall under _my_ command."

He leaned back again, precariously balancing the chair on two legs. "Oh, _this_ argument doesn't have the potential to last all day. Tuck away that haughty pride for two seconds and do it because it'll make me feel better, okay?"

She opened her mouth as if to object, but shut it again and threw herself into a chair. "You could've just said so," she grumbled, but didn't argue further.

Alistair raised his eyebrows at her compliance. Elissa was more stubborn than any dwarf once she set her feet about something, her defiance—and volume—increasing exponentially the longer you tried to argue with her. An inherited trait, as he had learned after meeting Fergus.

It begged the question—if you shut up a Cousland and there was no one around to see it, did it ever really happen?

"I must have hit my head on that rock harder than I thought," he muttered. "No—wait! I know this one! We're in the Fade, right?"

She glared at him again, but he saw the ghost of a smile lurking around the edges of her mouth. "I figured you earned yourself a point or two," she muttered. She sat up, abandoning her sulk, and regarding him carefully. "You saved my life today, you know."

Maker, he wasn't really blushing, was he? How did she _do_ that? "Yes, well…" he began, and then fell silent when he realized he didn't have anything to say, instead looked around for something to keep his hands and eyes busy so she didn't notice. Didn't Teagan own any books?

She stood up and came towards him, and he fought to keep his expression bland and not stare at the way the dress swayed around her bare legs.

"You're not ever going to stop doing that, are you?"

"What?" His question sounded almost guilty. He was fairly certain she hadn't caught him gawking, but sometimes it was hard to tell.

"Trying to protect me."

_Oh_. "I wouldn't hold my breath," he said, and then grinned. "Well, if I have to jump into a river after you again, I'd appreciate it, but otherwise…"

She laughed. "Though, in reality, your captain's going to start hating me if you keep doing things like this." She sighed and leaned back, half sitting on the desk in front of him. "Thank you, by the way."

"Don't."

"But…"

"Elissa." He looked up at her, one hand moving up to rest on her hip. "Do you really think I want to live in any reality without you in it?"

She was the one blushing this time, he noted with some satisfaction, crossing her arms and looking at the floor. The posture did the most fascinating things to her figure, and he let his eyes wander appreciatively over the soft, gauzy material that clung to her. The bodice was cut low enough that he could see the soft swell of her breasts, just above the straining laces…

She was trying to kill him. He was suddenly quite sure of it. Some sort of wily female trick he hadn't anticipated that was going to change all the rules on him…

"Alistair!"

"What?" His eyes shot up to hers to find her barely suppressing her laughter.

"We were supposed to be having a moment here."

"Then next time borrow a dress that _fits_," he said defensively before he had a chance to think.

Elissa only laughed, deep and genuine, before she bent over and kissed him. He was too startled to react at first, but the feel of her tongue in his mouth was certainly a heady incentive to pay attention. Her arms slowly slid around him, gently pulling, coaxing him to his feet. He managed to push himself up without breaking contact, his hands slipping around that wonderfully accented waist, drawing her closer. She didn't hesitate, pressing her body flush against his, and all the blood drained from his brain and began to settle in—other places—making it hard to remember why he had ever thought this was a bad idea before.

He carefully pressed forward, backing her up against the desk, until she was leaning over it. Her fingers curled in his shirt, clutching, urging him on.

Like he was going to argue.

He slid a knee between hers and deepened the kiss, reveling in the soft sound that escaped her. One hand glided up the silky skin of her thigh, and he felt the flesh jump in response to his touch before she arched further against him. A foreign and purely testosterone-driven sensation began to sink its claws into him; a burning desire to reclaim her as _his_—to toss her down and take her until she was a quivering, sated puddle of _Jaedan who_? He barely restrained himself, the part of his mind that was still capable of thinking telling him that now was not the time to indulge in such fantasies.

She broke away slowly, pressing one last soft kiss against his mouth before pulling away entirely. "I doubt if Teagan's study is the best place for this," she whispered unevenly.

He gave her a wicked smile. "It's nothing we haven't done before." He was a little surprised by how breathless he sounded.

She flushed slightly at the reminder. "I have to check on Daniel, anyway. He should be up from his nap by now." She looked up at him through her eyelashes, somehow bashful and seductive at the same time. "But I plan to take up the argument on who outranks who at a later date."

He gave her a slow, sensual smile and briefly brushed his lips across hers once more. "As my lady commands."


	17. Doomed

**Chapter Sixteen**

_**Doomed**_

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"_It's the end of the world."_

"_Again?!"_

_~ BTVS_

.

.

…The oath that cannot be forsworn.

Aeryc vaguely remembered the words from his own Joining, buried somewhere in a memory clouded with a hangover born of a yearlong binge, and then what had come after. The visions and nightmares, the reality of what he had been called to do, had kept him sober like nothing else Elissa had been able to do for him, compounded by the awareness that of the seven recruits she had gathered, only four of them had survived. And of those four, only he remained.

It was a humbling experience, to be chosen.

Lately, though, he had been giving that small line in the vow he had repeated more times than he could count the extra thought he hadn't bothered to do before.

Not for his sake. He would live and die as a Grey Warden, he knew, and he was at peace with that simple fact. It was an empty shell of a man that Elissa had poured the blood potion into, and it had filled him to the brim. His Joining was an agonizing transformation and rebirth, and he no longer knew how or desired to be anything else. But Elissa—she was another story. She had a life outside of the Order, if she cared to explore it. She had all the life she needed in Daniel, as well as a concerned brother who didn't let a year pass without begging her at least once to step down from her dangerous position and come home.

Not counting that she apparently also had a shot at being the sodding queen of Ferelden, which seemed far preferable than a lifetime flushing darkspawn from their dank, dark holes until one of them finally killed you.

Back in the beginning, he hadn't known what to make of the young, quiet woman who kept company with a garishly clad Antivan assassin, but he still had the scar from the night he had questioned what such an introverted mouse of a woman could possibly have done to stop the Blight. He was still suffering from alcohol withdraw then, plagued by memories he had spent nearly a year trying to bury and feeling more wretched than he cared to remember these days. His belly still filled with shame when he recalled how he had hinted that maybe the man everyone knew she had been involved with gave her credit for killing the Archdemon to make up for kicking her out of his bed once he had his crown.

Elissa had coolly ordered him to sober up and stalked away to regain control of her temper, but the assassin took it far more violently—or so said the thrown dagger that grazed his jaw before embedding itself in the tree behind him.

_Were you not so busy wallowing in your own filth, human, you would recognize suffering when you saw it_. He still remembered clearly the cold look in the assassin's eyes as he stood over him, barely restraining himself. _Elissa has chosen to rise above her losses, instead of drowning them in drink. One might suggest you do the same. She would be most… disappointed… were you to inexplicably disappear_.

When a man nearly killed you without half trying, it tended to make you pay attention.

It hadn't taken long after that to realize she was made of sterner stuff than he was. Learning she was a Cousland had revealed to him the degree of stupidity he had been harboring. She was quite forgiving, in her own way, and as they slowly began to share their stories a solid friendship began to sprout up. First initiated by two people who had experienced the tragedy of watching their family die, and expounded by a similar way of thinking; Elissa and he were alike in the ways that were important and different in the ways that really mattered. She was the passion to his calm, the fire of soul he desperately sought in a life overcome by ice and cold. More than the Grey Wardens or the mantle of duty thrust upon him, _she_ had changed him from the walking suicide she found near Denerim, and she had his unwavering loyalty.

Given the circumstances, he had dutifully disliked the King of Ferelden over the years, despite finding the man quite personable during their meetings. It was one of the few subjects of her past Elissa was hesitant to expand on, and so he didn't know all of the details surrounding their separation.

But the day they met him on the road and he saw for the first time how Alistair looked at Elissa, his first thought was: _Oh_. Follow closely by: _You poor bastard_.

Right now, Alistair was lounging on the steps to the castle with his son in his lap, watching Elissa take the newest recruit, Sarah, to task for removing the chain shirt she had been ordered to wear all day, every day until her Joining. The rumor that she was an archer had turned out to be an understatement—Sarah's proficiency with a bow outmatched even Zevran's, from what he had seen, but they had also learned that she had never donned so much as leather armor in her entire life. She needed to get used to the weight, and quickly, if she was going to survive the trials that led up to her Joining.

Sarah was scowling, biting her tongue to keep from retorting angrily against Elissa's diatribe. Aeryc shook his head as he listened to the confrontation, wondering if the newest Warden was going to be foolish enough to start mouthing off. One advantage to having a female commander was that his skin didn't squirm uncomfortably at the idea of _Elissa_ deciding a good knock to the jaw would straighten Sarah out.

It certainly couldn't hurt. The young, angry blond was far too hotheaded for her own good.

Alistair glanced up at Aeryc as he approached them and ran his fingers briefly through Daniel's hair. "I should probably take this one inside before this turns ugly."

"It's nothing he hasn't seen before," Aeryc said with a shrug and sat down beside them, reaching over to ruffle Daniel's hair. "He's tougher than he looks."

Daniel grinned and gave him a tiny wave, but didn't budge from his seat. That was saying something—Daniel generally ran over and held up his arms expectantly whenever Aeryc was around. The boy had taken to his real father extremely quickly.

A rising round of shouts, a resounding smack, and Sarah was lying in the sand with a bloody lip. Aeryc glanced at Daniel, but Alistair had covered his eyes with his hand.

"Drops her shoulder before she swings," he said as an explanation for his quick reaction.

Aeryc chuckled. "Thanks for the warning." He nodded towards Daniel, who was squirming out of his father's hold to try and see what he had missed. "How's he doing?"

"He'll recover." Alistair frowned, setting the antsy child down to run around the courtyard. "Stay away from the training field," he warned before dropping his voice, speaking again to Aeryc. "I'll admit I wasn't thinking when I jumped in after her—it never occurred to me seeing both of us go over would only terrify him more." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Part and parcel with the whole learning thing, I suppose."

"You're doing better than you would think, Your Majesty."

Alistair ignored the compliment, clearly uncomfortable with taking one. "It annoys me to no end that he has to deal with this kind of thing all the time. I wonder if I can talk Elissa down from that year she's so stuck on?"

He was genuinely asking, Aeryc realized, and he shrugged. "Tomlin is more than capable of training a replacement, if it comes down to it." He thought for a moment. "In fact, once we reach Denerim, there's really no reason for her to serve as more than a political representative. She's certainly earned a reprieve."

"Elissa? Leave the Grey Wardens?" Alistair smiled, but Aeryc saw the melancholy it was concealing. "Forgive me if I don't store all my eggs in _that_ basket."

Aeryc fought back a rare feeling of sheer irritation at his commander. There was no good reason for this. She didn't deserve a life of blood and war and being hunted. Alistair didn't deserve it, and Daniel certainly didn't deserve it.

Elissa was the hero of the Blight. She had rebuilt the Grey Wardens, putting more than enough men and women in a position to carry out their duty whether or not she remained the Commander of the Grey. Experienced veterans from Orlais shared their wisdom with newer recruits. More than half of the men she had recruited were people, like him, who had risen from the ashes of their previous lives and given over everything they were to fulfilling their oath. With a member of their Order on the throne and an heir to continue his way of thinking, the Grey Wardens would never again face threat of being driven from Ferelden.

She had, quite simply, made herself expendable. There was nothing to say she couldn't continue fighting the darkspawn in a role born of politics rather than sword craft.

_The oath that cannot be forsworn_.

Aeryc snorted to himself and glanced over at the man beside him, who was watching Elissa with unconcealed devotion.

_Can't be foresworn, my ass_.

… … …

The message came in the middle of the afternoon, ridden in by an exhausted Thomas. There were signs of numerous darkspawn in the area, but they had not yet found them or discovered just how many there were. Further investigation was needed before a proper report could be made.

Elissa crumpled the message and threw it into the fire, rubbing her eyes. They looked raw and bloodshot, shadowed by dark circles. She could probably stand to steal a couple hours of sleep after the excitement of the morning, but Aeryc doubted he could convince her of that in her current state of agitation. A small group of them were loitering in the kitchens, begging food from the cooks between meals. Leliana, accustomed to Alistair's and Elissa's appetites, had already requested the staff keep enough food ready for these mid-day urges.

"I thought you could sense the darkspawn?" Sarah asked from the end of the table, and though the question was innocent enough, the underlying insolence in the tone made him glance warningly at her. Her arms were crossed and her eyes narrowed as she watched Thomas take a seat and reach for a well-deserved tankard. "Or is that just another story?"

Elissa glared at the other woman, but kept her voice even. "They have to be within at least a couple of miles."

"Perfect. What's the use of that?"

Elissa's eyes narrowed. "You were there this morning. It saved your life."

"Barely." Sarah's fingers drummed on the table in annoyance. "I thought we were supposed to go and kill these monsters, not spend hours just waiting for them to show up and destroy something else."

"Charging in without knowing what we're dealing with is a very good way of getting yourself killed."

"And so we'll just wait for the body count to come in. Makes perfect sense. Is that why you didn't save Lothering?"

"_Hey_," Alistair said sharply, and Sarah fell abruptly silent, flushing deeply at the rebuke. She had apparently forgotten he was present. It was easy enough to do—even Alistair didn't make it a habit to lounge around in the kitchens in the middle of the day, but he had been exceptionally wary of leaving Elissa's side all day.

"Sarah," Aeryc said, hoping to interrupt this quickly. "Barracks. Now."

For once she didn't argue, shooting a nervous glance at the king before she swung herself free of the bench and marched off. Elissa took a long, deep breath and raised an eyebrow at Aeryc, silently asking him for perhaps the hundredth time if he thought the archer was worth it.

"She's been living in a constant reminder that her family is dead for five years. She's just frustrated," he said. _Kind of like you are right now_, he added to himself. Sarah's insubordination was nothing new to their organization. They managed to beat them all into shape sooner or later. Elissa's real irritation stemmed from waiting for the scouts. She had been more than a little put out when Aeryc firmly sided with the king's opinion that she needed to stay behind with them. As for him, he was more hindrance than help when it came to missions that required stealth, so he was accustomed to the aggravation of waiting for news.

Elissa, clearly, was not.

She scowled and began to pace—an action that was quickly brought to a halt by the king. She had only made one turn before he grabbed her wrist and yanked her down to sit on the bench in front of him.

"Calm down," Aeryc heard him murmur. "They'll be here soon."

She sighed and rubbed her eyes again, but gradually twisted around so she was straddling the seat in an imitation of his pose and leaned back against him. Alistair slipped his arms around her waist and bent forward to whisper something that made her laugh quietly, diffusing some of her rising temper.

What Aeryc wouldn't give to have him around every time Elissa was in this mood.

She sighed again and yawned, looking over at Daniel. He had been standing by the window for some time, his arms crossed on the stone sill with his chin pillowed on them. He was quieter than usual, deep in his childish thoughts and gazing at the sky with a curiosity too focused to be random.

"What's so interesting over there, sweetling?" Elissa asked lazily, shifting her position a bit so she could rest her head on Alistair's shoulder.

He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the window. "The raven."

She frowned and briefly exchanged a grim look with Alistair, straightening up to give the child her full attention. Ravens hovering about an area where darkspawn crawled were a decidedly bad sign. "Did you see a raven?"

"No." He sounded slightly puzzled. "It's not here yet."

Before Elissa could question him further, the door flew open with a resounding bang. "Commander!" Darren burst into the room at a run and slid to a halt in front of them, gulping for breath. "The darkspawn in the woods—there's a whole horde of them! They're attacking a group of riders on the road to Redcliffe."

Alistair and Elissa were already on their feet. "How many?"

"We're not sure, Your Majesty—they're wandering in broken groups, but we think it's over a hundred."

The crowd in the kitchen quickly swung free of their seats and ran for the door.

… … …

Elissa rode out with her full contingent of twenty-five Wardens as well as the knights of Redcliffe and what remained of the royal guard. Alistair was accompanying them this time, for once without any argument from her. The situation had abruptly changed with Darren's report. A horde that size was no longer strictly a Grey Warden concern, but a possible threat to his kingdom, and his guards looked grim and determined as they flanked him, casting distrusting looks at the trees.

Besides, Alistair was the oldest Grey Warden in Redcliffe at the moment, able to sense the darkspawn from further away than any of them, though the difference was negligible when she was there. His templar training, however, further enabled him to sort out magic users present. She needed him.

They had barely ridden five miles east when the first sensation came, a weak whisper of darkness that tugged at her soul. She glanced at Alistair, who nodded in agreement, albeit quizzically. The pull wasn't anywhere near powerful enough to be the horde Darren spoke of, but it was distinct and coming from the right direction. With a silent look of agreement they drifted further north, not speaking as they listened to the tainted call.

The road branched, revealing the ghastly remains of what had been a hard fight, heralded by the all too familiar sight of bodies dangling from the trees.

She heard Alistair swear beneath his breath. "There's something I'd hoped never to see again," he muttered, then more loudly, "Cut them down." He dropped down beside Elissa, weapon drawn as they moved forward to survey the carnage. Most of the corpses present belonged to the darkspawn, an encouraging notion, but Elissa sighed and knelt beside the body of one of her Wardens, her eyes guarded as she removed his helm.

"Devin," she said, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. "Damn it."

"Liss…"

"Don't." Her voice remained low, but a steel thread of command rang through it; a clear warning that until she had some time to remind herself that she would have been of little help with an injured arm and let reason talk her down, he was better off silent.

He heeded the precaution, and the presence of so many men and horses had never been so quiet as they began to shift through the dozens of corpses in search of their dead.

… … …

Alistair sighed and brushed off his hands, aware he should be thankful for the small number of bodies they had gathered—evidence that the fight had been more a skirmish than a battle. Given time, he'd be able to see it as such. It was a bit harder to remind himself of that as they built a pyre. Of them, they had discovered two survivors, delirious with pain and feverish to the touch, glossy eyes revealing that they had been exposed to the taint sometime during the battle.

They Grey Wardens had killed them both without hesitation.

Elissa skirted the edge of the forest, collecting dry wood for the fire. He wandered over to her. She knelt down, acknowledging his presence with nothing more than a quick glance.

"They must have faded back into the trees. We still have a couple of hours before dark to follow the trail."

Elissa didn't answer, grim and withdrawn, her eyes hard and dry as she got to her feet and made to turn away from him.

"Hey." He caught hand her and forced her to look at him, learning from previous mistakes not to let her shut down on him now. "They were killed by the darkspawn because they're monsters. We can't take responsibility for everything that happens."

"They were after Morrigan," she said thickly.

He sighed and glanced up at the sky. The ravens were already beginning to circle, waiting for the intruders to clear before beginning the feast, and a shiver passed down his spine. "We don't know that."

"If you say so."

He shook his head at her. "Something has got them riled all across Ferelden, and I doubt if whatever draws them to her is as strong as all that, or she'd be dead by now. There's something else going on here." He fell silent, thinking. "I think it's time we sent for reinforcements from Ostagar. I want to see this entire area cleared before we go to Highever."

She blinked. "We?"

He didn't think this was the time or the place to expand on his reasoning. "We."

She considered him for a long moment before nodding. "The rest of these soldiers must have taken the secondary road to Redcliffe," she said, changing the subject with a careful, business-like neutrality to her tone. "Hopefully we can find out more from them when we get back."

Yet she reached for his hand as they made their way back to the others.

… … …

The sky began to darken, effectively ending any hope they had of following the swath of destruction the remaining darkspawn had cut through the woods without foolishly endangering the warriors under their command. Nightfall was no time to engage the growing horde.

Elissa shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, her nerves screeching displeasure at the idea of giving up the chase. "They're going to press on in the dark. We could lose them."

Alistair shook his head, calm. "They're circling this area for some reason."

She shifted again, dragging her hand through her hair, common sense battling against a thirst for vengeance. She steadied herself with a deep breath, ready to give the order to turn around, when the black wave washed over her. She hadn't felt anything like it for a long time, not since the days just after the Blight when the darkspawn still swarmed in large bands as they dashed for the safety of the underground. The faint, echoing call of like calling to like rose to a scream in her mind, a hundred guttural voices overlapping. For a moment it overwhelmed her, nausea churning in her chest and middle and she gripped the reins, leaning forward to steady herself.

Alistair had jerked to a halt beside her, his eyes frantic as they stared, looking wide-eyed at each other.

"Fall back!" he called out at last, yanking his horse around with a quick glance in her direction to make sure she was following. "Back to the keep!"

… … …

"Where are they all coming from?"

Elissa had rarely seen Alistair in such a state. As the handful of banns that had been close enough to answer his summons cringed in the wake of his anger, she had to remind herself that she was not dealing with the same man she had once known.

"Darkspawn aren't exactly subtle," he said, his hands flat on the table as he eyed them all. "They raid, they fight and kill and destroy and when they're not doing that, they're tunneling, collapsing roadways and damaging wells. How did a horde that size make it to the heart of the kingdom without anyone _seeing_ them?"

His skepticism was clear, and one brave man cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, please try to understand, since the Blight the people have been frightened, convinced that everything that happens to them is because of the darkspawn. It's hard to determine when there are legitimate concerns…" his voice trailed away under Alistair's glare.

"The exact reason we have fifty Grey Wardens stationed at Ostagar is to let _them_ determine whether or not there is legitimate concern," he said coldly. "Did they come to you with any warnings?"

His question was met with silence.

"I see."

None of the lords could seem to meet his gaze. Alistair sighed and leaned back, thinking. "They're traveling underground. That much seems to be clear. The problem that faces us now is determining why they're venturing to the surface."

"I can answer that, Your Majesty." Elissa started at the sound of the loved voice. She looked up to see Fergus marching into the great hall, fully armed and sporting a slice across one side of his face. Behind him filed in ten, twenty—up to thirty soldiers, recently come from battle. "Something down there is flushing them out of their holes. The darkspawn we met on the road were in a state of panic, more animal than usual as they tried to get away. We wiped out all we could, drawing them with her."

To Elissa's horror, Fergus reached back and pulled Morrigan forward. Zevran pushed his way through the growing crowd, filthy and exhausted.

"We couldn't get through them," he said, as apologetic as he ever had been speaking to Alistair. "Teyrn Fergus met us on the road. Without him … well, let us just say that I grow curious at Fate's decision to indebt me to Couslands."

"And I'll collect from you, before this is over," Fergus said, his face grim. "Redcliffe is surrounded. We've drawn the darkspawn here in an attempt to regroup and stomp out this raid once and for all, Your Majesty, but we're outnumbered. So… please tell me my sister is still here."

Alistair didn't answer him, his eyes glued in horror to a spot somewhere behind Morrigan. Behind them, a little black-haired boy clutched at Morrigan's dress, staring fearfully around the room with the wide, golden eyes of a hunted raven.


	18. Passion

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Passion**_

.

_I miss the sound of your voice_

_And I miss the rush of your skin_

_And I miss the still of the silence_

_As you breathe out, and I breathe in_

_~Matt Nathanson_

.

.

In the years that passed since the night of the ritual, when he sold his soul to the devil in order to alleviate his own fears, Alistair had found it very hard to deny that he could very well have aided a witch in unleashing a monster on the world. Therefore, no matter how the kingship had changed him, he had found that his old approach of not thinking about it and hoping it would just go away caused less gnawing guilt than dwelling on the problem.

So, he hadn't thought about it.

Part of him had even gone so far as to convince himself that such dubious magic hadn't even worked and it was all some elaborate hoax set up by Morrigan to seduce him for reasons best left unexplored. Her complete disappearance made this far-fetched conclusion easier to indulge in and even better, to ignore the niggling voice in the back of his mind that warned him such an approach would be sure to come back and bite him in the ass one day, if for no other reason, then because the Maker seemed to take an undue amount of pleasure in torturing him.

And now that mythical child was standing here—_here_—in front of a dozen of his vassals while he struggled not to have a stroke at the sight of him. Common sense dictated that he should fight to disguise the hysteria that was rising, to pass off this horrifying meeting as nothing out of the ordinary and fall apart later in the privacy of his chambers, where the witnesses would be few. The King of Ferelden had no logical reason to react so violently to the sight of a swamp witch and her child.

Yet try as he might, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the small, frightened face with its alien yellow eyes.

It was an undeniably beautiful face, white-skinned and smooth as porcelain, contrasted sharply against hair that was black as pitch. Even as his mind spiraled closer and closer to a precarious drop that threatened to ruin him, he didn't have to look hard to see the resemblance. The child looked entirely too much like a Theirin to be within view of a handful of lords who had already figured out that he had one bastard to his name, and were far too interested in knowing what had suddenly rendered their king speechless.

Then he saw Elissa.

Her face was as cool and calm; a glass of still water in the face of a desert of sheer panic. Her expression didn't change as she met his gaze, save for a simple flick of her eyelashes, warning him to keep control. For a fraction of a second only, he saw the pain reflected in her eyes, so deeply buried that he was positive he was the only person on earth who would recognize it there. As much as he had never wanted to acknowledge Kern's existence, for Elissa it was perhaps even more so—the child was a living reminder of both her weakness and whatever she had endured in knowing that he was spending the night with Morrigan.

And yet she was watching him, warning him, able to maintain her composure in the face of this disaster. It was what he needed, that simple reminder of understanding and sympathy that only Elissa could grasp fully. He took a deep breath and managed to steady himself.

"Commander," he said, hoping he was the only one who heard his voice crack. He gestured to the group, and she quickly picked up on the cue and stepped out of the shadows in the corner. With a few muttered words to Morrigan, she escorted the witch and the boy from the room, followed closely by Zevran.

"Your Majesty?"

Alistair shook himself, trying to pull his mind back from the nightmare stalking him. "Darkspawn," he mumbled, briefly curious as to when darkspawn had become the less frightening topic in his life. "Have your men ready to march on the second morning."

The surrounding lords suddenly looked ill at ease, sliding glances at each other. He was past caring what bothered them, wanting only to join Elissa. Annoyance at all this hedging made his voice sharper than usual. "What is it?"

He was greeted by silence before Bann Silgyn stepped forward. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, with the addition of Teyrn Cousland and his men, and his sister and her Wardens, we have the numbers to nearly match the darkspawn. There's really no reason for you to be on the field."

Irritation battled with a wild desire to laugh—they were too preoccupied by this extremely common argument to have even seen what had just transpired. The familiarity was enough to snap him out of the haze of doubt, revealing itself in a rough laugh of disbelief.

"I'm a Grey Warden, or had you all forgotten that?" Alistair asked, leaning back in his chair, and the men went wary at the deceptively casual pose. Everyone present was familiar enough with him to know just how abruptly his quick humor could sharpen into biting sarcasm before his temper revealed itself.

"You're also the king," Fergus pointed out, completely unconcerned with Alistair's occasional temper tantrums. Of everyone present, Fergus was the only one who wouldn't flee, and Alistair saw the others garner courage from his demeanor. "We've already lost one monarch to these monsters because he insisted on leading the charge."

"My lords." Elissa reentered the room, striding purposefully towards them and speaking quickly to interrupt Alistair's building objection to being compared to Cailan. "As Warden Commander, I would recommend that _all_ of you stay behind and leave what men you have under the command of the Wardens. You are aware of the fever that kills those who come into contact with the darkspawn. Even in light of their numbers, I see no reason to put any of you at risk for this battle."

Silgyn shifted uncomfortably. "You make sense, of course, but it's a matter of honor, my lady…"

"The attack must be led by those of us who haven't got a scrap of honor left to us," she replied coolly. "If the darkspawn are making their stand in a nearby village, we'll be forced to kill everyone there, down to the last scullery maid, to avoid the spread of the fever. Will any of you be willing to do such?"

There were murmurs of assent, and Alistair silently applauded her tactic. He knew, as did she, that each and every one of them was capable of such murders, but they would never admit to it openly. As he got to his feet, the others did as well, recognizing the dismissal for what it was. By the time he got through the customary crowd that surrounded him, Elissa had already disappeared after her brother, running up the winding staircase before he could stop her.

In what seemed a remarkably short amount of time he was left alone, staring at the door where Morrigan had gone. The dark thought that Elissa should have been here with him began to take root, wondering how she could just leave him in this situation. He had never felt so shaken, grimly amused by the notion that of all the horrors he had witnessed in his life, a simple boy had managed to unravel his courage like cheap linen. For a moment he considered running away, to ignore Morrigan's presence for the duration of her stay and blithely go on pretending that her son didn't exist.

The thought was a little appalling.

With one last longing look at the stairs, he forced himself to go inside.

Zevran and Morrigan were seated at a small table, apparently waiting for Leliana to decide what to do with them. Zevran muttered something about his appearance, but Alistair didn't even hear him, his attention focused on the boy at Morrigan's side.

He didn't _see_ a monster.

He saw a child, his face filthy and streaked with tears as he cowered behind his mother, terror reflected clearly in his eyes. He wore a tunic that had seen better days, torn and dirty from living on the run for longer than Alistair cared to contemplate. His eyes dominated his face, shadowed by thick, dark lashes that were abnormally long for a boy's. His round, childish face showed hints of what promised to be a strong chin and high cheekbones when he grew a bit older—features that stamped him as a Theirin except for the full lips that were clearly Morrigan's.

Alistair barely restrained a shudder. He looked… like Daniel.

"What are you doing here?" The words came out harsher than he had intended, strangled and unsure. He swallowed.

"'Twas no decision of mine," Morrigan snapped, her eyes narrowing.

Zevran heaved a sigh and fixed Alistair with an annoyed look. "You see what lovely companionship I have endured," he said, leaning back in his chair to prop his filthy boots up on the table. "I feel for you my friend—truly, I do, strange as that may sound—but you simply are going to have to trust that we had no other choice, stimulating as the company was."

Alistair nodded, struggling for words. "You'll be safe enough here," he said, unsure if he was talking to Morrigan or Kern. The sight of him was enough to send him spiraling into guilt, wondering what kind of person he was that he had never even considered what the boy had been through. "We've managed to gather enough men to deal with the darkspawn."

"Such a relief," Morrigan said.

He looked hard at the witch. "Keep him out of sight, Morrigan."

She pursed her lips angrily, but gave him a single curt nod in response. Much as it must have ached her heart to agree with him, she most definitely had no interest in Ferelden's nobility taking an interest in her son.

Kern turned to his mother, watching her with an intensity that seemed to hold some silent communication, and Morrigan growled beneath her breath. "They cannot hear you. Use your words, child."

"Who's he?" Kern's voice was both quiet and subdued, as if he hoped to avoid drawing the attention of anyone, sounding so much like an ordinary little boy that the revulsion Alistair felt in discovering Morrigan had heard the boy's thoughts died as instantly as it had sprung up.

Morrigan crossed her arms and glared. "No one of consequence." A clear warning blazed in her eyes at Alistair's growing discomfort.

Leliana burst in just at that moment, looking puzzled and a little frazzled. "Alistair, I don't understand. Elissa said that Morrigan was here—" She stopped in her tracks, blinking at Kern. "Who's this?"

"My son," Morrigan said, putting more emphasis on the word _my_ than she needed to. Leliana blinked again, her wide blue eyes darting to Alistair momentarily, and he bit back a groan as he recalled the words he had overheard Leliana say to Elissa when she confronted her about Daniel. _I am not so blind as our dear Alistair. I knew the moment I saw him._

He wished again that Elissa were there. He honestly didn't know what to do. An uncomfortable silence followed, broken only by the sound of Zevran scraping mud from the soles of his boots, spreading dirt all over the floor. Morrigan got to her feet, watching Leliana warily. It was no secret that the two women had lost very little when they parted ways, and it seemed that Morrigan was suddenly aware of the fact that her situation depended solely on the arlessa's good graces.

Leliana's unwavering sympathy, however, could always be counted on.

"Oh, you poor dear!" she said, kneeling in front of Kern. "Morrigan, he's half-starved! Bring him into the kitchens. We'll find him something decent for him to eat and then I will ask Elissa if she has some clothes for him to change into. Daniel is about the same size. I am sure she would not mind."

That was debatable, but Alistair didn't much see himself launching into a lengthy explanation at this point.

She reached out, offering her hand to the boy. Kern looked back at his mother, who nodded almost imperceptibly. He looked relieved as he took the bard's hand, toddling behind her towards the kitchens as Leliana chattered away. "Let me see… do you like sweetcakes? Of course you do! I'm sure we can find enough to fill that tummy. Oh, and Zevran? Be a dear and clean up that dirt, if you don't mind."

Morrigan's stony stance did not soften.

"Keep your distance, Alistair," she said, the menace behind the words exposing the tendons in too-thin neck as she glowered at him. "We had an agreement, you and I. You _will_ remember it."

She stormed away, leaving him still speechless behind her.

… … …

Alistair woke up even earlier than usual the following morning. The sun was barely beginning to display a hint of rising, and he groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, determined to go back to sleep before he became one of those old men who thought the morning wasted if it wasn't still dark out when they rose from their bed and started the day.

It was useless.

He hadn't slept comfortably at all, woken repeatedly in the night with an overly active brain and an even more active sense of dread that followed him into his dreams. There was only so much one person could take before they cracked up completely, and he had the uncomfortable feeling he was teetering dangerously close to the border between sanity and… the other thing. He hadn't gotten the chance to speak to Elissa all evening, hounded by visiting lords about the upcoming battle with the darkspawn and generally plagued by his damnable duty.

He was beginning to hate that word.

He needed his time spent with Elissa, already dependent on the simple calm that came with her very presence, the sensation of his world sliding back into place. He felt the shift in balance keenly, and he wondered with no small amount of concern how he was going to handle it when this whole ordeal was over and done with, and Elissa would no longer be within arm's reach. He could only imagine the entertainment Denerim would enjoy as they watched their king loiter around the Grey Warden compound like a lost puppy.

He glanced at the window and then came to the abrupt and somewhat reckless decision that her irritation at being woken at this hour would pale in comparison to making sure he saw her before the battle tomorrow.

He didn't have to go very far.

He had barely risen and started for the door when there came a soft tapping, and Elissa slipped inside, her hair still tousled from sleeping and wearing the loose woolen bedclothes she preferred. At first he could only look at her, a little suspicious that he was dreaming and kind of hoping he didn't wake up, were that the case.

"Your guard let me in," she said, nervously shifting in place as though she were as surprised as he was to find herself here. He was suddenly, acutely aware that he wore only his sleeping trousers and debated whether it would be too obvious if he didn't rectify the fact.

"Couldn't you sleep, either?" he asked.

She shook her head with a weak smile. "I figured you were already awake. We didn't get a chance to talk yesterday."

Right. Talk. Of course that was what she was here for. He argued with his disappointment that it was something, that she was worried about him. With a sigh he turned away, sitting down at the small table in the corner of the room. "So talk."

She was still fidgeting, and he looked questioningly at her, wondering what had her so skittish. "I'm sorry I disappeared on you yesterday," she said quietly. "I was just a little thrown, I guess."

"I figured," he said with another sigh. "I'm sorry you had to see him."

"It's not exactly your fault."

He rubbed his face. "Look, Elissa, I'm really not ready to talk about… him. Not yet."

She nodded, chewing at her bottom lip as she came closer.

Alistair raised an eyebrow, watching her. She had come to him for some reason of her own, he realized, seeking some sort of comfort that he wasn't entirely sure how to give. He knew Elissa, body and soul, was still able even after all this time to read her mood within moments of seeing her, to know when it shifted with something as simple as a flick of her hand or a drop in her shoulders. Yet for all of that, she had always been so vocal when something bothered her he had never really gotten the chance to hone the skill that told him why. He still needed it spelled out for him.

"Couldn't you convince Fergus to stay behind tomorrow?" he asked. He had never seen noble siblings as fiercely protective of each other as these two, drawn closer than they had been as children by the tragedies that had befallen them. He didn't doubt that Fergus was never going to let his sister ride into battle without him following right on her heels.

Elissa scowled. "No. He's being ridiculous and stubborn and…" She drew a breath and shook her head. "He's already nearly been exposed… I just thank the Maker he wasn't Tainted fighting through that mob." She gave him a small smile. "I guess you knew that he was going to be difficult about this."

He grinned. "Actually, I was wondering if you two hotheads even bothered to greet each other before the shouting started."

She laughed beneath her breath. As she crossed her arms, he caught sight of a glint of purple when the fabric of her shirt shifted, revealing a small amulet on a silver chain. Curious, he reached over and lifted the amulet with the tips of his fingers. It was a stone, set in silver. Elissa quickly snatched it back, flushing as she tucked it back into her shirt, but not before he had recognized it.

"Is that the necklace I bought you when we were in Orzammar?"

Silence. Then: "Maybe."

He smiled at her petulance. The simple truth that she was wearing it again gave him the courage he needed. "Why are you here, Elissa?"

"I don't know," she said, sounding miserable. She sank into the chair opposite him and rested her head on the table. "I'm just a wreck, and I need to talk to you, but I don't know how to bring it up, and now I'm just feeling really stupid for even coming. It was just seeing you two today. I've done my best not to think about it, but I can't help it…"

It dawned on him, then, what was bothering her, and he was both incredulous that it would still haunt her and kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. He was so accustomed to seeing Elissa strong and sure and unafraid that it was sometimes easy to forget what vulnerabilities she possessed. "I wanted you."

She peeked up at him from her folded arms.

"That night," he said, careful to keep his eyes on hers. "I wanted you so badly. I even went to your room, after, but…" He shook his head. "Knowing that I was hurting you, even more than I already had—I can't describe what it felt like. I was just so scared of losing you…"

Elissa nodded and hid her face again, and he saw her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. "I'm an idiot."

He smiled at the muffled confession that his suspicions were correct. "I thought that was my burden."

"Apparently not." She sat up and rose. "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. I'll see you later on, okay?"

She was walking away, headed for the door, and a voice of instinct—that sounded suspiciously like Zevran's, for some reason—screamed into his mind that he was messing up again. She had come here because she needed something from him, and some simple reassurance that he _didn't_ want Morrigan wasn't it. There was still something there, separating them, that Morrigan was only the catalyst for. He struggled for words, desperately wondering what he was supposed to do. Alistair's brain kicked into action and did what it should have done five years ago, and took the decision away from him. "I'm sorry, Elissa."

"For what?" she asked distractedly.

"For us."

She stopped, her hand still in midair, and looked at him.

"I should never have…I didn't even give us a _chance_. I had Eamon preaching to me about my duty and I was terrified I was going to mess up everything. I just wanted to do the right thing, and instead it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life." She still hadn't moved, and he sighed. "I never should have let you leave. Let you go. Nothing's been right since."

She turned away from him, her hand on the latch, but didn't make any motion to leave. He approached her cautiously, terrified that she would bolt, and gently put his hands on her shoulders to turn her towards him. She kept her head lowered, hiding from him as she wiped her eyes and sniffled.

"Maker's breath, that wasn't supposed to make you _cry_," he said, despairing. "Why didn't you tell me to shut up?"

"Don't be stupid." She laughed through the tears. When she looked up at him, she was smiling, honest and open. "You still have no concept of women at all, do you?"

And suddenly she was kissing him, pulling him down towards her like she hadn't done since before the Landsmeet. He felt the change, now, the subtle differences in the way she clung to him, her mouth soft and yielding under his. It was enough to make him a little dizzy, the way she managed to swing between such volatile emotions, and at first he wasn't entirely sure how to react to the turn around. It wasn't until she pressed closer against him, her leg running up the inside of his thigh that her intentions finally clicked into place.

_Oh_!

He leaned forward, bracing his arm against the door he crowded her against so he could reach down and catch her knee, pulling it up around his hip. She gasped at the contact, breaking away to allow his mouth to trail down the soft skin of her throat.

A ghost of hesitation remained, a lingering wondering if this was what the other really wanted.

He knew what _he_ wanted, and it was currently bundled up in soft wool.

His hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, running up the bare skin of her ribs, and Elissa peeled away from him long enough to let him pull the cloth over her head before she was back, her arms wrapped around his neck. He wondered how he had managed to live without this, without her fire. He kept his presence of mind only long enough to grope blindly for the lock on the door, sliding the bolt home before he doubled his arms around her waist and lifted, and she readily brought her legs up to wrap around him as he carried her back to the bed.

He felt a little nervous when he guided her down on the blankets beneath him. Elissa didn't hesitate, yanking him down by his shoulders, and when he felt the press of flesh against flesh his instincts came back with perfect clarity. He _knew_ Elissa, knew her breath would labor at the feel of his open mouth right here, knew she would shiver in pleasure at the graze of his teeth there. Her skin turned flush and hot beneath his touch, sultry little sounds of pleasure breaking through the ragged sound of her breathing. Before, they had always been forced to bite back any noise, trying to be as quiet as possible for fear of being overheard, and the new experience drove him dangerously close to the brink—her hands running over every inch of his bare chest wasn't helping his dilemma at all. He caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed. She squirmed only a moment in protest, but when his mouth trailed to her breast to lavish attention there she gasped, back arching, and stopped fighting.

It was a slow exploration, rediscovering her body. He summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed to draw the experience out, tasting and touching and losing himself in her warmth, and by the time he tossed her pants to the floor Elissa was frantically working the laces to his.

He helped her, kicking the annoying fabric aside before settling himself back on top of her. He hesitated, aware he wasn't going to last long, and slid his hand down in between them to draw her to the very edge, determined that she would find her pleasure. He had never felt her so ready for him, and as his name tore from her lips it was nearly his undoing.

He let his mouth roam over the curve of her shoulder, up the lines of her throat to her ear before whispering roughly, "Tell me what you want."

"You," she said, somewhere between an order and a plea. "_Now_."

He wasn't about to argue.

"Liss," he rasped. "Look at me." She did, her eyes heavy lidded and clouded with desire. He held her gaze as he sank into her, hissing aloud at the exquisite feel of her around him. Her eyes fluttered closed again with a quite moan. He paused only a moment to savor it before he swept her into the dance, setting a slow, forceful pace that soon had her moving beneath him, her hips rising to meet his every movement in a storm of need. He knew it when her body began to tremble and tighten around him, straining towards the climax, reading her tells as easily as though they had done this only yesterday. The pressure built, hovering at an unbearable level, and she lifted her head and he felt her smile before she gently dug her teeth into his earlobe. "Don't hold back on me now."

His willpower shattered. He shoved himself up, braced on both arms before he reached down and hooked her knee around his elbow. She threw her head back, gasping, bringing her free leg to wrap around his waist as he drove her into the mattress. Her nails dug into his back, her voice broken in a siren's song of soft moans, edging him to the brink of insanity.

A cry, a shudder, his breath caught in his throat and the world dissolved into sweet, aching release.

… … …

The bright morning sun found the two still in bed, encased in a world of quiet warmth and drowsy sunlight that held no room for darkspawn or witches or repercussions. Alistair smiled against her neck at the sound of her throaty laughter and pressed his lips against her collarbone.

He wondered if hinting for a third time was remarkably selfish of him.

Not that he wasn't going to ask, anyway.

"You do realize that you've completely given up any chance that I'm going to let you get away again," he said, dipping his head to leave a path of warm, soft kisses down her stomach.

She chuckled and ran her hands through his hair. "Promise?"


	19. Revelations

**Chapter Eighteen**

_**Revelations**_

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"_The kid's all right, really, but the packaging he came in… she's got to go."_

_~Uncle Nasty, KPBI_

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For a long time, Aeryc's mornings had generally run along the same course. After rising and completing his morning toiletries, he would go and harass Elissa until she finally got up. They generally shared breakfast with Daniel, discussing the normal, everyday concerns that came with a large holding before heading down to the training field. Even over the past year while they traveled to Weisshaupt and back again, they had managed to keep the same habits, simply exchanging the setting of her office for a campfire. Since arriving in Redcliffe, however, the simplicity had been in a state of upheaval, and he was a little surprised to find that he appreciated the fact. Elissa wasted away when thrust into the mundane, bored and preoccupied more often than not.

Since the return of Alistair, he had seen her more animated than he had in years, caught somewhere between bewilderment and displays of temper that Aeryc found more amusing than he let on. He enjoyed watching the way they interacted, a relationship that could switch from gentle and teasing to butting heads in the space of a few pointed words. Elissa was shrewd, sharp of mind, and mouthy as sin more often than not—there was something distinctly satisfying in seeing her evenly matched for a change.

When he saw Daniel come downstairs with Wynne and Brannon that morning, he grew a little concerned. Recently he had taken to waiting for Elissa in the hall instead of going to her room, since Alistair often spent his mornings there. Aeryc he didn't want to interrupt the man's limited time alone with his son. Not to mention, he was more than happy to hand over the responsibility of being the one to wake up Elissa. No matter that she had lived a military lifestyle for years now, or her penchant for discipline in every other aspect of her life—she was never going to be a gracious early riser. However, stubborn as she may be, she was always up as soon as the boy was, and this morning in particular she would have been awake and readying her troops for the coming battle. She had been exhausted, he knew, and the last thing they needed right now was for her to fall ill.

Instead, he found the room quiet and Elissa's bed looking as though it hadn't been slept in. Before he could worry about where she might have been, she slipped in through the door behind him, still dressed in her bedclothes and looking rumpled. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of him, her eyes widening in mortification at being caught sneaking back into her own room, telling him exactly where she had been.

"Oh shut up," she said before he had a chance to say anything, stalking past him as she twisted her tangled hair into a knot at the back of her head.

He merely chuckled under his breath. "I would have thought you'd be in a better mood, at least."

"Aeryc…" she said in warning, disappearing into her bed chamber.

"I'll just be outside when you're ready, then." He stuck his head into her room to find her digging through her trunk. "And uh, Liss?"

"What?"

"You might want to cover up that thing on your neck as well."

Her eyes went wide again and she smacked a hand over the purplish mark before she ran to the mirror.

Aeryc laughed to himself all the way down the hall.

… … …

Alistair had begun lounging about in the yard for the better part of the afternoon, watching the Grey Wardens train while Daniel ran about under the watchful care of half the occupants of the training field. He had more reason to on this day, as the small army they had managed to scrape together prepared for the battle ahead. After the council of war broke up in the morning, many of the visiting nobles joined him outside for a chance to observe Elissa with her Wardens. It went a long way in assuring them that she was capable of leading this attack.

Alistair was still riding high on the euphoria of the morning, and his returned humor seemed to give them a growing sense of confidence. As much as he worried about the numbers and the simple risk of non-Wardens battling the darkspawn, he didn't want to take away from morale and so didn't bother to curb his spirits. Grieving and mourning would happen soon enough—they always did, no matter how well the battle went.

He was surprised and pleased when Wynne joined him that afternoon, settling down beside him on the steps with a soft rustle of robes. The mage didn't care much for either heat or noise, and so he hadn't seen much of her since their arrival in Redcliffe. She spent most of her time in her chambers working on a personal account of the Blight she intended to leave with the Circle Tower.

He smiled at the unexpected company and set aside the dagger he had been sharpening to switch to his sword. It was his prized possession, that weapon—a final parting gift from Elissa, wrought by Wade's masterful hands. Though she had him carry Maric's blade during the Landsmeet for the statement it would make, she knew it griped his soul to do so, and so had this blade commissioned without his knowledge to be presented to him after his coronation. He had carried it with him ever since, giving Maric's blade a place of rest over the hearth in the great hall of the castle.

"How goes the book?"

"Slowly," Wynne said, delicately resting her ink-stained hands on her lap. "I have trouble remembering so many little things. The details begin to run together and I can't seem to sort them out." She gave him a small smile. "I must be getting old."

Alistair snorted and began sharpening the blade. "I can't remember details, either. Terror has a funny way of doing that to you." He paused, considering. "You know, Elissa kept a journal as often as she could while we were on the road. I think she intended to share it with the council eventually, but from what I understand, it became too personal for that. You might want to get together with her and see what you can come up with."

"I would, but I intended this to be a structured account of the Blight, not another Ballad of the Grey."

Alistair laughed quietly. "I'm positive that most of it is the information you're looking for. Structured accounts and logical thought processes and everything else that can make her so infuriating." He shook his head and glanced at the elder woman who had been through so much with him. "I was never her whole world, Wynne. Not like she was mine."

"Of course." Wynne tilted her head, considering him. "I'm sorry, Alistair. I was under the impression you were getting along better than you had been."

He shrugged. "You could say that."

"I see. Given that smile on your face, I think I would rather not know any more." She glanced at the weapon in his hands and pursed her lips. "I take it you still intend to ride tomorrow?"

"I take it you still disagree?"

She shook her head. "This isn't a Blight or a war, Alistair. It's nothing more than a large raid. You're putting yourself at unnecessary risk."

"Since when does anything that involves the darkspawn unnecessary?"

"That isn't what this is about, and I think you know it. You just don't want Elissa going without you." He frowned and didn't answer, and Wynne heaved a long suffering sigh. "What do you think she's been doing for the past five years?"

"You sound like the rest of those blasted nobles."

"Because they don't want another sword slinger—they want a king. And preferably one who realizes some of his duties involve things he _doesn't_ do." He remained silent, and Wynne added softly, "They're scared, Alistair. The civil war wasn't all that long ago. You can't blame them for wanting to avoid another."

He heard the sound of small footsteps approaching from behind, and found himself grateful for the distraction. He looked down to see a childish hand inching towards the dagger resting on the step beside him. Alistair got there first, snatching up the weapon before the little fingers could clasp around it. "Nice try, kid, but I think you've inherited my stealth."

Daniel sulked, flopping down on the steps with his chin in his hands. "What's that?"

"It's being able to stay quiet, and don't change the subject. You know you're not supposed to touch these."

"But—"

"I'm serious, Daniel. If you want to train the first rule is to respect the tools you're using. And after what I had to go through to get your mother to allow that much, she'll skin us both if you hurt yourself. No touching. Got it?"

He nodded, resigned and looking bored. Alistair felt bad for him. At least in Amaranthine there were a handful of other children to play with and the time spent in his studies. Elissa had been too busy recently to see to his schooling. Having no other playmates but Aiden had to get dull.

Wynne seemed to sense the subject of his joining the battle was officially changed, but he didn't think that meant it was put to rest. It was a common enough argument.

"Da?" Daniel asked, scratching at a scab on his knee despite Wynne tsking at him.

"Hm?"

"How come the raven's so scared of Mama?"

"What?" Alistair and Wynne both started, glancing at each other.

Daniel continued on as though he hadn't just managed to unnerve them both with his question. "I tried to tell him that she was nice, but he's still scared." He idly kicked at the stones at his feet. "He thinks she hurt him once."

All the pieces and clues of the past few weeks clicked together in his mind. "Are you talking about the other little boy that's here?"

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

"When did you talk to him?"

Daniel's brow furled in concentration. "I…" He frowned and stayed silent, upset by the question.

"Brannon!"

The young man started at the sharp tone and hurriedly jogged over. Alistair got up, buckling his sword back onto his belt, and met him a small distance away, where Daniel wouldn't overhear them. "Have you been with Daniel all this time?"

"Every moment he's awake since you ordered it, Sire."

"Tell me the truth. Has that swamp witch or her son come anywhere near him?"

Brannon looked distinctly nervous, but it stemmed more from being called to the carpet than any lie in his eyes. "No, Sire! The Warden Commander warned me when they arrived to keep her away from him unless one of you or Aeryc was present, and so I would remember clearly if she had tried to speak to him."

Alistair nodded, thinking. "I want his room searched before he goes to bed at night, and make certain his window is closed."

The young guard nodded, giving no indication if the thought the order a strange one.

Alistair paused at the steps, reaching down to tousle the boy's soft hair. "Look at me," he said, his tone gentle despite the rage that was blooming beneath his skin. Daniel did, his large eyes wide. "No one's mad at you. And your mama's not going to hurt anyone, okay?" _No promises on this end, though_.

Daniel nodded, brightening somewhat. "Can I stay in the yard?"

"You can, but be careful. There's a lot going on and I don't want to see you squashed by someone not paying attention." Daniel laughed, the last few moments already forgotten. "Wynne, take him over to Aeryc, would you? See if he has time to give a lesson."

She nodded, looking at him with worried eyes, but didn't say anything, offering her hand to the boy. As she led him away, she gave Alistair a look that clearly warned him to be careful. He waved off the guards that started to follow, his expression dark enough that they didn't dare to argue as he stalked into the castle in search of Morrigan.

The witch was going to give him some straight answers this time.

… … …

Alistair barged into the study in a rare state of fury, the door slamming open and causing both the woman and her son to jump at the noise. Morrigan was quick to recover, regarding him with cool eyes as he marched up to her. "What have you been telling Daniel?"

She didn't answer right away, reaching back to smooth a hand over Kern's hair before gesturing for him to return to a stack of blocks he had been playing with before running to hide behind her. Alistair fought down the guilt that filled him at the boy's reaction. It was enough to force himself to calm down marginally, to rein in his desire for violence towards the woman before him.

"And what makes you think I have any interest at all in the child?"

"Don't. Not this time," he said. "He _knows_. He knows about your son's shape shifting, about his raven form. He says the boy's afraid of Elissa. What poison have you been spewing?"

"Naturally if there is wrongdoing afoot, it must be of my design," she said calmly, unmoved by his anger. "I have no care for your son, Alistair. If Kern is frightened of Elissa, I must assume he has good reason for it. Do not forget what he once was. 'Tis more likely he has some memory of his imprisonment."

Alistair glanced at the boy sitting silently on the floor and yanked Morrigan aside, lowering his voice. "If that's true, then she was the one to free him."

"I do not suspect he remembers it as such. His mind is still very young, after all."

"That still doesn't explain how Daniel knows about all this."

"No, it does not."

Alistair had to clench his hands at his side to keep from shaking the information from her. "So help me, Morrigan, if you've come anywhere near my kid with one of your plans in mind…"

"I didn't mean to."

The small voice brought him up short, halted his momentum completely and when Alistair looked at him, Kern was looking bewildered, as if he hadn't meant to speak. Alistair swallowed hard, biting back the snarl building in his throat, unwilling to release aggression meant for the mother on the child.

"What did you say?"

"I…" He stopped and dropped his eyes. "I have dreams sometimes…"

"Enough!" Morrigan snapped, stepping between them. "You owe him no answers, Kern. Off with you."

He nodded, getting up slowly, watching Alistair the entire time. There was a depth to his gaze that should not have been there, Alistair thought; some greater understanding too old for the small body it inhabited. He stared up at the man, and Alistair imagined that he saw recognition light his features, only briefly, before confusion settled in once more.

Morrigan saw it as well, and was none too pleased by it. "I said go," she said, and the moment was lost as the child scurried out the door. She faced Alistair. "Daniel is an empath." Then she crossed her arms, apparently willing to comply if it meant getting rid of him. "He can sense emotions in others. Not unlike your tainted bond, from what I have gathered. It is an old, old gift, one that has been lost since the Chantry began to choke the very essence of what magic truly is."

Alistair felt his head drop as he wearily rubbed his eyes. "So he _is_ a mage."

She scoffed at the notion. "Hardly. 'Tis a power the demons cannot wrench away from him, and one which has no outer manifestation. His ties to the Fade are weak, and so of no danger. Yet the fanatics of the Chantry would never see it as such. Elissa has long since known there was something strange about him, and contacted me some time ago. It was not until only recently that I saw him in the flesh, and thus was able to sense the power within him."

"You're saying those two have never spoken, and yet they seem to know an awful lot about each other."

"I do not claim to understand it all. To my knowledge, the ritual has never been performed successfully until now, and not even Flemeth could have foreseen two children who, if only for moments, shared a soul." She shook her head. "There are greater forces at work here than you or I."

"You did this to them." She looked up sharply at the accusation, but Alistair was still reeling from the new knowledge and he didn't know exactly who he was angrier at, but his guilt could be silenced if he took it out on Morrigan. "You're the one who was playing with these powers."

"You agreed."

"I had no idea that you didn't have the slightest clue what you were doing!" He shoved his hands through his hair. "And you're the one who knew about Elissa's pregnancy, not us. You're a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. You could have warned both of us."

"Calm yourself."

"Why should I? Maker, Morrigan, even I can't do anything against the Chantry and the Grey Wardens! If they find out about this…"

He didn't finish the thought. With a shake of his head he drew a breath and turned to leave, afraid of what he would do if he stayed in the presence of the witch.

"Alistair." Morrigan sounded unusually hesitant, and he paused long enough to look at her. She chewed at her lip as if she were just as surprised as he was by it. "The Taint he once carried is gone. There is nothing evil about Kern. He truly does not desire to harm anyone."

He wished he could believe her, even wanted to, but if Morrigan had taught him anything, it was to be wary of anything she said. He knew he was being deliberately cruel when he answered, "Forgive me, but I have to stand by my basic belief that nothing good could come of a night with you."

She instantly iced over, any signs of humanity that had begun to emerge disappearing entirely. "Is that so?" she asked and smiled at him, the look in her eyes like a predatory cat who'd spotted its prey. The spell slammed into him without warning, snaking around his defenses before he could react. His brain went hazy and muddled, spinning backwards into confusion.

She approached him slowly, sensually, trapping him between her body and the door, and he was helpless to stop her. "Earnest, self-righteous little templar. You forget that I know the truth."

He shook his head, trying to clear it, but all of his templar training was rapidly disappearing into the mists of magic.

"Do you wish to learn how long I bore the bruises left by your fingers?" She pressed her lush body against him, and heat shot through him. Her eyes bore into his, her mouth hovering just out of reach, allowing him to breathe in the remembered taste of her. "What use would I have for something as paltry as desire? To serve as an outlet for your grief, your rage…"

His eyes roamed down the soft, white skin of her throat, lingering on the swell of her breasts just above the thin linen of her robe. It was so easy to remember how she had felt beneath him, around him…

"Tell me, Alistair—does your precious Elissa know the number of times I cried out your name, while she wept only a short distance away?"

That was all he needed. With a wrench of pure will he broke the spell. The sudden loss of magic left him trembling. He grabbed her wrists and shoved her away from him, hard enough that she stumbled back.

Morrigan simply pushed her hair out of her face and smirked at him. "You may wish to tell yourself whatever you like about what happened that night, Alistair, but you cannot lie to me."

"Do that again and I'll kill you," he said, but the shaking in his voice rendered the threat was weak and useless. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

… … …

Aeryc yawned and stretched in the sunlight, propped up against a tree while he watched Daniel play nearby with a set of wooden soldiers Fergus had brought him from Highever. He settled back, letting his mind wander somewhere between awake and asleep while he kept his eye on the child. The day before a major battle always took him this way, his body and mind going languid and drowsy as if to conserve as much energy as possible for the trials ahead.

"Aeryc, do you think I'm noisy?" Daniel asked suddenly.

"You most decidedly are not, for a boy your age. Who told you that?"

"Da." He paused to remember the exact words—a gift particular of Daniel's that Aeryc envied, given the boy's penchant for learning languages. "He said I inherited his stealth."

Aeryc laughed. "Well, that's something different, then. You're a mite clumsy, lad, but it's nothing you won't grow out of."

"Da says he didn't."

He laughed again. "I wouldn't worry about it. Your father is a real warrior, who fights facing his enemies like a man should, not prancing in the shadows like Zevran. You'll simply have to learn his way is all."

Daniel seemed satisfied by the answer and resumed his game. Aeryc leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle warmth of the summer day while he had the chance.

It was instinct alone that warned him someone else was approaching. She moved slowly, her bare feet making no noise in the soft grass. Her skin was still pale, but had lost the ill and pinched look she had when they first found her. A simple white shift floated in the breeze around her like a gauzy cloud; jet black hair, loose and wavy, tumbled around her face to her shoulders. She looked more spirit than woman, soft and silent and impossibly beautiful.

Aeryc remained unmoved, on alert instantly, readying the means to utterly drain her of magic, if need be. He had heard enough of Morrigan's sharp tongue to know her true nature, and of the many Blight companions he had met, only Elissa seemed to care at all for her.

He rose slowly, feeling like a hunter approaching skittish wild game.

She ignored him so completely it was impressive, peering down at Daniel in curiosity rather than hostility. Daniel looked back up at her without any trace of fear in his eyes, and Aeryc relaxed somewhat. The child was excellent at reading people's moods and tended to be wary of less trustworthy intentions.

"Your friend tells me you are suffering over this battle on the morrow," the witch said at last, her voice deeper and more refined than Aeryc remembered. He moved closer.

Daniel didn't answer, but Aeryc saw him bite his lip and look away. Morrigan nodded to herself. "It will not do for you to feel things not meant for you. You must learn to shut out these intrusions."

"I can't."

"Then they will continue to haunt you, and you will forever be a slave to them." Her voice was cool and stern, but not completely unkind. "You have the power, child. You simply lack the knowledge. Now close your eyes and do as I tell you."

"Hold it." Aeryc strode forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Do either of his parents know you're here?"

Morrigan didn't even bother to look at him. "Elissa wants only for his mind to be at rest. She has taken a far more practical view of magic than even you could imagine." Now she glanced at him, her golden eyes challenging him with their frankness. "You are prepared should I attempt anything unnatural, are you not, Templar? Surely a simple mental exercise should not vex you over much?"

"You watch yourself," he warned.

She ignored him, speaking directly to Daniel. "You must build a wall. Imagine yourself stacking up the protection piece by piece in your mind. Make it of whatever pleases you—clay or stone, or even those ridiculous blocks of wood Kern is so fond of. Imagine that your thoughts are protected within the wall, and that no others may pass without your permission. You are the guard and master of your own mind. All others are mere travelers requesting entrance."

For long moments Daniel was quiet, his eyes closed as he struggled to do as she said. Aeryc began to grow more nervous, reaching out with all of his senses for any sign of magic.

"Concentrate, child," Morrigan said again. "Your mind is sharp and strong. You can do this simple thing."

All of a sudden Daniel's eyes flew open, and he looked up at the witch with childish glee. Aeryc thought for a moment that she would smile, but she resisted the urge. "There, you see? But you must practice, or all I have said will mean naught."

She turned to leave. Aeryc stopped her. "What did you do?"

"I simply taught him how to take control," she said, calmly tilting her head to consider him. "You are Elissa's second, are you not? I should not have to tell you that he is different than other children."

No, she didn't, but he wanted to know how _she_ knew that. "Did Elissa send you or not?"

She laughed, a broken sound that sent chills down his spine. "Elissa has little need or desire for the assistance of others, and that remains especially true for me."

"And yet you don't strike me as the type to wander around looking for random children in need. So why…" Realization dawned on him, and he felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the strange witch. "You still care about her."

Her gaze went positively frigid. "Strange. I had thought you above such sentimental drivel," she said, and then turned and glided away.

Aeryc settled back in the grass, watching Daniel carefully and turning this over in his mind.

The witch wasn't fooling anyone.

… … …

"I'm not ashamed to say, I have absolutely no idea what to do now."

Elissa sighed, her gaze fixed somewhere on the intricate, looping design of the rug as she answered. "Neither do I."

It was getting late—with the preparations and audiences and everything else, Alistair hadn't gotten a moment in private to tell Elissa about his confrontation with Morrigan until Daniel was in bed and out for the night.

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, guilt gnawing away at him until he felt physically ill from it. He felt Elissa's soft touch on his shoulder but didn't look up.

"Alistair…"

"I knew, you know," he said through his fingers. "I knew that whatever it was, it was going to be horrible, but I never expected this."

"Daniel is fine, Alistair. He's a little more eccentric than we may have imagined for a child of ours to be, but he's just Daniel. He hasn't changed since this morning."

"Eccentric." He laughed, dark and hollow. "And what about the other?"

Elissa didn't offer an answer for that. He shoved himself up, his fingers laced behind his neck as he turned in a slow circle, desperately trying to think. "I didn't care," he said at last. "I didn't care what he was, or where he was, or what he was capable of. What does that say about me?"

"It says quite a bit, that you care now."

"Cold comfort, when the deed's done." He rubbed his eyes. "Did you see him, Elissa? Left with Morrigan to run for his life, while I kick and scream because I was made king. Oh, I'm a good person. Sure." He shoved his hands through his hair. "Recently I've begun to wonder if leaving the Chantry with Duncan was really the wonderful idea it seemed at the time." Elissa flinched, and he regretted the words the moment they fell from his mouth. "I didn't mean that."

"You're upset."

"Upset, yes, but also apparently cursed to say exactly the wrong thing for the rest of my life. I really shouldn't be allowed to talk to people."

"It certainly doesn't help any that the only two women you've been with seem to be determined to kill you somehow," she muttered in self-deprecating irony.

"Please don't. I don't think I could stand it right now if we start apologizing again."

She looked at him for a bit before nodding and getting up to slide her arms around him. He held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair and bent his head to kiss the top of hers. "I'm just really, really glad that you're here."

"We'll figure this out. We always do."

"And how are we going to do that?"

"Simple," she answered brightly. "We worry about the battle tomorrow. After that, we worry about the road to Highever and the cave. Then, if there's time, we worry about the Landsmeet and getting Daniel named as your heir. Maybe by then we'll come up with an answer for this." She smiled up at him. "One catastrophe at a time. Wasn't that always the agreement?"

He chuckled. "That's right. I remember now." His body hummed with restless energy and he leaned closer. "Spend the night with me?"

She sighed, but didn't make any move to separate them. "You know I can't stay with you all night. Not here."

"Fine." He heaved a lonely sigh and ducked his head to kiss a spot on her neck just above her collarbone that he knew was particularly sensitive. He smiled to himself when he felt her shiver in response. "Then can you just sneak me into your room and indulge in hours of angsty pre-apocalyptic sex until I have to go?"

She laughed, twining her arms around his neck. "Okay then."


	20. Nightmares

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Nightmares**_

.

_Did you exchange a walk-on part in the war_

_For a lead role in a cage?_

_~ Pink Floyd_

.

.

The misty dawn was thick with fog, suffocatingly quiet in the chill shadows of the tower. A cold sun struggled to break through the blanket of grey, covering the blurred landscape in a wash of muted light, occasionally catching the drops of water that glinted off of every rock and blade of grass. The four were quiet and unusually still as they looked out over the hazy outline of the village below, each contemplating the ramifications of what lay ahead.

"How many?" Aeryc asked, glancing at the two Wardens beside him. Though he had more experience in dealing with the darkspawn then Alistair, it was with smaller raiding groups and stragglers that were too long in returning to their holes after the Blight. He was unable to sort out the sea of cries that hummed through the Wardens with so many so near at hand .

Alistair and Elissa, however, had more than enough experience in dealing with hoards this size.

"Almost three hundred." Alistair closed his eyes, focusing inward on the taint that coursed through him, searching for the glowing egg-shaped pools of magic that shined in the black sea like poisoned stars. "At least ten emissaries."

Aeryc simply nodded, calm despite the dire report. Alistair was beginning to see why Elissa regarded him as highly as she did—the man was completely without hysterics or drama, steady even as the world threatened to burn around them. He found himself wishing that Aeryc had been a companion of the Blight—steady was something they had been sorely lacking in those days

The following silence was abruptly shattered when Elissa shook herself, not unlike Aiden after one of the baths Wynne so often forced on him. "There's no point in standing around here."

In silent agreement, Alistair, Aeryc and Zevran followed her off the catwalk and into the tower, navigating the winding steps with some care. So lost was Alistair in his thoughts of the looming battle that he didn't see when Elissa abruptly stopped mid-step in front of him. He nearly ran straight into her.

Morrigan waited at the base of the stairs, blocking their path. Alistair glanced around, but Kern was nowhere to be seen. The witch looked more like herself than she had recently, her hair pulled up in its customary knot and her staff in her hands, wearing snug robes that were more reminiscent of what she had donned during the Blight, if slightly more conservative.

"I wish to speak to you," she said, pointedly speaking only to Elissa.

Elissa crossed her arms. Her voice was devoid of any sign of warmth. "Then talk."

Morrigan scowled, apparently not pleased about having an audience for this. Alistair tried to slip by and leave them alone. He'd been strictly avoiding this scenario, not really comfortable with the tension between Elissa and Morrigan and especially with his part in it, but Elissa refused to budge, and he couldn't get by without pushing her out of the way.

"It has occurred to me that these creatures will be after my son," she said. "I would rather not put his protection in the hands of boys who have never faced the darkspawn as we have. I would help you, should you desire."

"Help?" Elissa laughed grimly and waved the offer off, pushing past the witch. "I think I've had all I can stand of your brand of help, thank you."

"Don't be foolish," Morrigan snapped. Elissa whirled on her, eyes narrow and arms crossed so tightly she looked a bit like she was folding in on herself. Morrigan was relentless. "You know as well as I do that your men have never faced this kind of threat. The rest who follow you run the risk of falling to the Taint. I can fight the darkspawn well; _you_ were the one who saw to that. And they have powerful casters with them. You are already thinking that you need more mages, I know. Your pet fool must have sensed them by now."

"Are you referring to me or Aeryc?" Alistair asked. "We wouldn't want to be unclear. Makes it difficult when we're arguing over who you're meaner to."

The witch ignored him. "Wynne's magic is not what it once was, and she was never strong to begin with," she said. "Her energy will be better served tending the wounded." Morrigan and Elissa stared each other down, before Morrigan concluded with: "You need me, Warden. You know it as well as I."

Elissa didn't answer at first, trembling in place as she grappled between holding onto her stubborn nature and common sense. Finally, she held up her hands in defeat. "Fine. You can leave Kern with Daniel and Brannon. But you go under my orders, Morrigan. You get anyone killed trying to prove something, and you're on your own."

Morrigan nodded once and stalked away.

"Well," Alistair said slowly, "that was horrifically awkward."

Elissa didn't answer, deep in thought.

"What's the matter?" he asked, but Aeryc already seemed to know.

"I can stay behind, if you prefer," he said. "From what I could sense from the boy, his magic is advanced for his age, but nothing that a templar can't handle. Not yet, anyway."

She still didn't reply, gazing at Alistair, her eyes wide and beseeching. He realized what she was asking and glared back at her. "Not a chance. Aeryc already volunteered to stay here."

"Alistair, please be reasonable. Do you want to leave Daniel here alone with Kern with no templar? We don't know a thing about him!"

If it had been any reason besides Daniel, he wouldn't have even bothered arguing with her, simply would have ridden out whether she liked it or not. Since it was about his son's safety, he was left floundering around on the losing side of a battle before it could even begin. "We know that Aeryc can handle him. I'd say that's case settled." It was a weak protest and he knew it.

"Even you can't argue that it's ridiculous to risk your life over Aeryc's, and he wouldn't either." Beside her, Aeryc was nodding in agreement. "This is one battle, Alistair. No one is going to think any less of you for staying behind."

He threw his hands up in the air, resigned but definitely irritated about it. "You have no idea how annoying that gets! How would you feel if I argued that the Warden Commander is too valuable to risk in such a pointless battle?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'd have to assume that you would never make that argument, since it's _stupid_."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, grumbling. "_You're_ stupid."

Elissa only laughed and moved closer, slipping her arms around him. "Can I take that undignified response as confirmation that you'll stay here?"

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"That's right. I completely foresaw Morrigan offering to help without any strings attached," she replied sarcastically and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Don't sulk in front of Zevran. It's unkingly, and you're only giving him ammunition."

… … …

He was well beyond sulking by the time the army was ready to ride out. He was bordering on unpleasant.

The nobles were relieved, heartened by the news that he would be staying behind to allow the Wardens to do their job. Wynne also approved the decision, saying over and over again that it was right that he put the needs of the kingdom before the needs of his own ego and that making these kinds of decisions proved he was truly becoming a king.

None of which helped.

Alistair knew the common sense behind the argument. He had known it for years. It wasn't pride that kept him charging into battle over the protests of everyone around him. It was fear. Dread at the thought that people were dying in his place while he stayed safely behind was far more terrifying than the crush of battle. At least with a sword in his hand, he was out there fighting and if he wasn't one of those to fall, well, that was the Maker's decision and there was nothing that he could do about it.

Taking this route was much, much harder.

He shoved his way through the crowded courtyard behind Elissa, determined that his people could at least see him with them before they surrendered themselves to the fate that would decide who came home and who didn't. Elissa sensed his dark mood and, for the most part, didn't say anything to him—a relief after the reaction of the others. She knew his real problem, and wasn't going to try to make him feel better about it with empty words that would only succeed in annoying him further.

He saw Morrigan standing off to the side of things. She had likely never ridden a horse in her life, and from the look on her face, she certainly didn't intend to start now. Alistair considered warning Elissa of this complication, but changed his mind, thinking that Morrigan's shape shifting made the issue moot. Besides, most of the caster's would be on foot.

He noticed Elissa and Zevran eying her as well, muttering to each other in rapid Antivan. He scowled, wondering if the switch was for his benefit or for Morrigan's.

He also wondered, briefly, how childish it would be if he asked Daniel to translate for him.

Elissa saw his moody expression and offered him an apologetic smile. "We were just wondering where she got the name," she said. "I've never heard it before. It makes me wonder if Morrigan has had company we don't know of in all this time—maybe Kern is a namesake of some kind."

"I doubt it's anything so complicated. His name is likely a bastardization of one of the Chasind deities—Kernunnos, the Lord of the Hunt, I think."

Elissa and Zevran merely gaped at him.

"That's right—every once in a great while, Alistair knows something," he said. "For example, I know for a fact that I'll be taking up lessons in Antivan the moment I get back to Denerim if you two don't knock it off."

"On behalf of my people, please refrain," said Zevran. "I have already witnessed how you butcher your own tongue."

"Zevran, go and…actually, just go." Elissa sighed and turned to him. She kept her voice low even after Zevran had left to avoid eavesdroppers. "Are you done now?"

He almost said no, but he was starting to feel more than a little silly at his behavior. "Yes," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "There's a reason I don't do this, you know."

"I know. But you have to. I need you."

"You know I'm not going to let anything happen to Daniel. I just need to get this temper tantrum out of my system first." He kicked idly at the ground. "I'm scared, Elissa. If something happens to you, and I'm back here twiddling my thumbs like some milksop Orlesian noble…"

She didn't let him finish, stepping forward to cut him off with a soft kiss. "I'll be fine." She smiled. "You're not getting rid of me so easily this time, Alistair Theirin."

He didn't have a response for that. Elissa released him and turned to swing herself up into the saddle. A quick glance in his direction, and she turned back to the waiting Wardens. "Make for the woods!"

They rode out in a thunder of hooves and a cloud of dust. The casters trailed behind more slowly, on foot so as to be able to keep to the cover of the trees. A handful of swordsmen from the warbands of the nobles accompanied them, ready to jump in should they find themselves in melee range. Alistair grabbed Thomas as he jogged past. "You keep her alive, do you hear me?"

Thomas nodded and bowed slightly before running after the others.

"We shouldn't have any trouble finding the components for your Joining, Sarah," Alistair heard Aeryc say before he yanked his horse around and tore out after Elissa.

For once, Sarah was silent.

… … …

Daniel stood in the hall, huddled in a corner to stay out of the way as he clutched at a rabbit made of wool and rags turned soft with age. At the sight of Alistair he broke away from his spot and ran over to him, arms outstretched. "Da!"

"You're not supposed to be out here," Alistair said, lifting him up. Daniel promptly wrapped his arms around his neck, trembling. "You were supposed to stay with Maryn."

"I got scared."

Alistair sighed. He had to admit that the hard faced warrior terrified him more often than not.

Brannon stood at the end of the hall, vigilant in watching Daniel even if the boy refused to stay where he was supposed to. Alistair saw the second small boy beside him, gazing around at the activity within the castle with avid child-like curiosity.

He wasn't sure he had actually thought about it when he told Elissa he would stay behind—he was realizing just now that it involved him spending the day with Kern. There was the small problem that the only side of him the child had seen thus far was a raving lunatic—he likely would run away as soon as he saw Alistair coming.

The part of his heart that made Alistair _Alistair_ wasn't okay with that. Deep down, despite his trepidation, he wanted Kern to know him, even if he never saw him again. He wanted him to have even a dim memory of someone other than Morrigan who had cared for him, whether or not he ever learned the truth.

Whether or not she intended to steal him away again.

He knew full well what Morrigan say to that—she would definitely tell him to walk away, to take Daniel somewhere and leave the other under Brannon's care. He was only there as a precaution—there was absolutely no reason for him to try to speak to the child.

Well, to the Void with her and her wishes.

Alistair hadn't said more than a scattering of words to Kern since his arrival in Redcliffe, and even now he wasn't really sure where to begin. The boy looked up at him when he approached, and there was no fear in his eyes—only a kind of wary curiosity.

_I'm your father, even though I agreed not to be and I can't stand your mother, regardless._

It would probably be best just to skip that issue entirely.

"Kern," he said. "Um, did you mother tell you she was going to be gone today?"

He nodded.

"Would you like to come sit with me and Daniel? He's been a bit lonely—I think he'd like someone to play with."

He nodded again, happy, and promptly toddled out from behind Brannon. Daniel glanced down at the boy who looked so much like him, his head tilted to the side as he regarded him. "I have blocks," he finally said, squirming until Alistair set him down. Alistair led the small group towards Elissa's room, stopping only a moment to glance out the window towards the north. The boys ran on ahead, Brannon following close behind, and for an unguarded instant he leaned heavily on the windowsill, imagining he could see an angry red glare in the sky above the site where Elissa would be fighting without him.

… … …

The blast was powerful enough to strangle the air around them, a violent, searing force of magic that carried on the wind with the stench of burning wood and flesh both, the darkspawn swallowed in a sea of fire that destroyed them without permitting them so much as a scream.

Aeryc shoved himself to his feet and shook the splinters out of his hair, shouting to be heard over the clamor of battle. "Watch where you're aiming that shit!"

Morrigan paid him no heed, concentrating on her next spell.

"Come on, she knows what she's doing." Elissa struggled to her feet before pulling on Aeryc's elbow. "Come on!" Aeryc followed behind obediently, trusting in Elissa's instinct. She ran through the chaos, her head turning this way and that as she searched for the leader. Even he could tell by the organization that something was behind this attack.

The thought was not a comforting one.

He barely deflected a blow from a hurlock, the beast tearing through the sweltering crush of bodies at the height of blood frenzy. Fergus' report that the darkspawn seemed even more wild than usual was not false—they swarmed the field like rabid dogs, intent on the kill, with no rhyme or reason to their attacks. He had seen more than one rush into a mob of soldiers on what could be described as nothing other than a suicide mission.

Elissa stopped in the middle of the battle, and a second later Aeryc understood why. Beneath the hum of adrenaline and blood that coursed through him, he could feel, ever so lightly, the pull of a song.

Elissa looked at him wildly, fear shining in her blue eyes, vivid over the soot and dirt that stained her face. The song was strange to him—warped and twisted like a sorrowful wail against the melodic call of the old gods, but the darkspawn heard it, and they obeyed.

"There!" Elissa shouted, pointing to an emissary that stood on the fringes of battle, and Aeryc followed her in. The emissary sensed them coming, turned at the last moment. It threw its hand up with the ghastly laughter that never failed to send chills down his spine. Elissa dove to the right while went left in a well-practiced dance they had perfected over the years. The spell barreled by, demolishing a toppling barn with a cloud of smoke and splinters. Aeryc sent out his smite with all the will he could muster, and though the emissary stumbled, caught off guard, he could still sense the power of the creature.

Elissa rushed in, her blades spinning in a flash of blood and death. As the monster stumbled back, clutching a wound in its belly without bothering to heal itself, Aeryc realized that the thing had no clear understanding of its own power. Something was imbuing it with magic, giving it means beyond its own mysterious brush with the Fade.

It was just as dumb as the rest of them.

Elissa's defenses dropped as she realized the same thing, coming in with a brutal offense on the caster. Frantic, the monster raised its staff, tracing Elissa in a sickly green light. She saw it and dove back, making room for Aeryc to move in. Though each blow drained a little more magic from his opponent, there seemed to be no end to the flow of mana that coursed through it. It's rumbling laugh vibrated through and around him as he countered spell after spell. Elissa was fighting off a mob of genlocks that had caught her from behind, unable to help him.

"Templar!" he heard the witch warn from somewhere behind him. "Your shield!"

He barely registered the words and got his shield up before the gust of icing wind blew past him, so cold that the handle iced over instantly. Aeryc was forced to drop it before he lost a few fingers. The emissary stared stupidly at the ice that crawled up his arms and legs, howling in pain, and Aeryc moved in, catching the monster in the chest with his blade at the same moment Elissa spun on her heel and threw a dagger into its spine.

It fell, broken and bleeding, at his feet. The song grew even louder, a caterwaul of wailing that screeched through his veins. Aeryc chuckled grimly. "You're no Archdemon," he said, and drove his sword through its skull.

The darkspawn broke ranks, running for their lives. Elissa spun around again fast enough to make her braid whip around her waist. "Don't let them route! Wipe them out!"

A cloud of freezing snow and ice erupted once again from the witch, this one a swirling storm that settled in front of the darkspawn, cutting off their retreat.

"Commander! Down!" Thomas yelled. Too late, Aeryc saw the wave of arrows sent off by hysterical genlocks, aimed for Elissa.

Morrigan's magical shield flew up only a second too late. Two of the missiles got through her defenses. Elissa slammed back against the wall with a muffled cry. She gasped, glanced down, and saw the stalks protruding from her shoulder and ribs.

"Son of a bitch," she muttered just before collapsing into Aeryc's arms.


	21. Touched

**Chapter Twenty**

_**Touched**_

_._

_Don't you stand there and then tell me you love me_

_Then leave again_

'_Cause I've fallen in love with you again_

_~ Janet Jackson_

.

.

A quiet dusk rolled over Redcliffe, softly deepening the sky outside without accompaniment of the standard thunderstorms in the afternoon, revealing a gauzy purple sky dotted with the first stars.

For the entirety of the day, Alistair had been in a state of nearly frantic activity. The messengers rode in periodically to update him on the progress of the battle taking place a short distance away while the nobles left behind all clamored around him, firing questions at each new rider and sending messages back to their respective captains. Alistair would have liked to tell them to drop the façade—Elissa had more experience with darkspawn and battle tactics then any of the men in the room and they knew it—but it made them feel better to pretend they were somehow involved. He might take a lesson or two from them, he thought wryly, and maybe this cold pit in his stomach would leave him in peace.

But now the study was quiet, most of the nobility gone downstairs as trickle of wounded became a steady stream. He was half tempted to join them, knowing they would be gathered in the great hall, drinking hard and saying little as they waited to see which ones would pull through. The notion of getting completely hammered held a certain amount of appeal.

He had made several appearances downstairs himself, waiting for news as well as personally visiting with some of those who had taken injuries, but his place, his purpose for staying behind, was here in this room, watching over the strange soul who's melodic call had unwittingly summoned the dark horde.

In the stillness, Kern sat contentedly in the corner of the room beside his new friend, though Daniel had already succumbed to exhaustion from the overload of excitement and zonked out right on the floor. Alistair would move him soon, before the rest of the wounded arrived and the castle became a madhouse of pain and ugliness he had no desire for his boy to be witness to. But for now he simply stood beside the window, unable to tear his eyes away from the winding road that swathed through the forest. Waiting, hoping, that Elissa would somehow come into view.

With a sigh he dragged himself away, turning his attention back to his charge.

Kern was even more unusually quiet then Daniel, Alistair had learned through the course of the day. He rarely spoke unless spoken to, and his golden eyes were filled with a thoughtful look that gave him the overall impression of being studiously aware of his surroundings. He was small for his age, rosy-cheeked after a few days of Leliana's attentions and, Alistair had discovered with some degree of disbelief, possessing that indefinable air of quiet happiness that spoke of being well cared for.

He was currently concentrating intently on a flower cupped in his small hands, pilfered from an ornamental vase in the corner of the room. Alistair joined him on the floor, but the child didn't look up from the withered petals, smiling softly to himself as though he could see something there that others could not.

"Aren't you sleepy?" Alistair asked, completely at a loss on what to do now that the elven servant who had taken charge of the boys during the day had been summoned downstairs to aid the healers. He'd never spent so much time with small children—even all the days he'd been in Daniel's company, Elissa had been with them, handling the everyday tasks of making sure he was fed and cleaned up and rested. Weren't they supposed to take regular naps or something?

Kern only shook his head, which was absolutely no help at all.

"Are you sure? Because you know, I'm pretty tired, and I don't have to do all that growing and such that you have to. It must be exhausting."

The boy gazed up at him, all childish beauty and innocence. Alistair sucked in a sharp breath when the flower in his hands curled in on itself and then bloomed once again, bright and dewy as if it had just been plucked. Kern tipped the reborn rose into Alistair's hand and assured solemnly, "My mum's with her."

At that moment Fergus burst into the room, still covered in sweat, his eyes wide. "Alistair—it's Elissa."

… … …

Aeryc clambered up on the moving cart beside Elissa and Morrigan, careful not to jostle the wounded commander as he squeezed in beside them. The arrows still protruded from her torso, broken off as close to the head as they could get them—Morrigan and Thomas had both insisted she would be better off leaving them there until they could reach a proper healer. Elissa was in a state of delirium, shivering despite the warmth of the evening and clammy to the touch. He reached out and stroked her hair away from her forehead.

"Hold on just a bit longer, Liss. We're nearly there."

She looked up at him with bleary eyes and forced out a weak smile. "Wretched darkspawn. I remember now why we kill them."

He chuckled quietly beneath his breath. "Well, the ones that did this to you are cinders now, thanks to Morrigan." Beside her, Morrigan murmured beneath her breath, chanting a resolve of healing that slowed the bleeding to a sluggish flow. The witch looked drained, but her skill had kept her otherwise unharmed in the fighting. "Thank you," he said, and Morrigan started in surprise for a moment before shaking her head in disgust.

"I did nothing for you, Templar," she answered and continued murmuring.

He had rather expected that response. Morrigan's searing tongue was predictable enough, once you began to understand her a little. Aeryc watched her dubiously, wondering if she was up to the task of keeping the spell up until they were able to reach the castle. He reached out with his senses, and felt the waning glow of the power that had exuded from her only this afternoon. "Maybe I should fetch Thomas."

Morrigan only shot him a nasty look and continued chanting, a bit louder than before.

Aeryc ignored her. He could certainly understand how the woman got beneath Alistair's skin, but he had begun to view her as something of a child, highly intelligent but utterly inexperienced in the range and depth of her own humanity, and quick to lash out at what she didn't understand. Instead, he spoke to Elissa. "He's had more time to rest, and he wasn't the one setting the entire battlefield ablaze," he said. "I'm not about to be the one to answer to King Alistair if you die, you know. I prefer to keep my head attached to my shoulders if possible."

Elissa's eyes rolled back before she brought him back into focus, speaking through her teeth. "Nothing vital. Just have to keep bleeding slowed."

"You don't know that."

Elissa was shaking her head, stubborn even against the haze of pain that turned her features flushed and damp. "I'm fine." She closed her eyes for a moment, battling to bring her body back under her own control. "Aeryc… the others…"

He fought to hide his grief, a useless endeavor. The Tainted bond between the Wardens burned brightly, even without the presence of the Archdemon. He knew that Elissa could feel the ripping ties as keenly as he; she could sense each of the mortally wounded like fading flames, lost in the sea of misty grey that would claim them all in the end. "They have healers with them."

"Please, go to them."

"Elissa…"

"Stop hovering!" Aeryc raised an eyebrow at Morrigan's sharp reprimand. "The Warden knows her own mind. Off with you. You are accomplishing nothing except to break my concentration, and I've no desire to listen to your lamenting should she bleed to death."

Aeryc gave her a long, level look. "You're kind of a bitch, you know that?"

Elissa's eyes opened more fully and she gasped out a strangled, watery chuckle, unable to contain herself. Aeryc never spoke to any woman that way, but he was beginning to have his doubts that Morrigan even fit into that category. She was more like a force of nature, magnificently untamed as a summer storm and every bit as ruthless.

Instead of hurling fire at him as he half expected, the witch actually smiled—the small, halfhearted lift of her lips that served well enough for a smile on her. "So I have heard, and from better men then you," she said. "Go and see to your other Wardens, or your Commander will not rest and let the magic help her as she ought."

… … …

Any doubt Elissa may have maintained that the nobility were aware of her resurrected relationship with the king was put to rest by their reactions at seeing her wounded. Instead of being placed with the rest of the injured in the great hall she was hastened upstairs while a page was immediately dispatched to fetch Wynne.

The Wardens had been hit the hardest, but mercifully, the army had survived largely intact. Their losses were keen, but not crippling. The Order would recover, would grieve the loss and move on, surviving as always.

Aeryc ran upstairs to find Elissa on the floor of her chambers, lying on her side in front of a blazing hearth. The king himself was kneeling with her while Wynne hovered nearby, muttering a minor healing spell beneath her breath as she tipped herbs into boiling water. Alistair was flipping a square piece of linen into a twisted line. "Aeryc, hold her down. Wynne can't do it."

He quickly did as he was told. Alistair smiled grimly. "Tighter. She's a thrasher," he said before offering the twisted bit of cloth to Elissa. "Bite down."

Elissa obeyed. Alistair began yanking at the laces that held her armor together. Aeryc was very familiar with the story that was fast becoming legend, but had been difficult to picture Elissa and the King of Ferelden as comrades in arms, homeless and wandering for nearly a year before defeating the Archdemon. Now, while Alistair checked the wound left by the arrows, his sleeves shoved up to his elbows and his hands covered in blood, it was easy to see this was no new occurrence in their relationship. He settled back and pillowed Elissa's head in his lap. "Hold on to me, love."

Elissa nodded. Aeryc could feel her muscles tense and bunch in expectation. She screeched against the cloth in her teeth when Alistair grasped the shaft and yanked it out in a gush of blood before promptly sitting back to make room for the elder healer. Wynne was beside her immediately, blue and soothing magic flowing from her age-scarred hands. Alistair glanced up at Aeryc and nodded, signaling that he could release her. Yet his words were for Elissa, his tone exceedingly gentle. "It's over now, love. See? Nothing at all. Just a quiet evening by the fire."

"Alistair, we need to move her," Wynne said quietly, not looking up from her work. "It would be best if she moves as little as possible for a while. There are some internal injuries and excessive blood loss. All of it will take time to heal."

The king's mouth went into a hard, straight line, but he kept his silence as he got up and lifted Elissa as tenderly as he could. Wynne made to follow him into the chamber. Alistair caught Aeryc's eye, silently asking him to wait.

He wasn't alone for long. Alistair only took a moment to deposit Elissa into her room under the watchful care of Wynne before rejoining him, shutting the door quietly behind him. "What happened?"

Aeryc could only shrug helplessly. "Simple rotten luck, Your Majesty. It happens sometimes, even to one as experienced as Elissa. It's fortunate that Morrigan was there, or it could have been a good sight worse."

Alistair didn't answer right away, looking intently at his blood stained hands, one rubbing the back of the other. "I see." He remained quiet for some time, leaving Aeryc to wonder if he should slip out and leave him alone with his thoughts, but the young king shook himself and looked back up, and Aeryc could see the mask settle into place, falling like a curtain and dousing the bewildered frustration behind his gaze.

"You should probably see to your wounded."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Still, Aeryc hesitated a moment longer. He was unsure what he wanted to say, but a sudden sympathy for the still young man in front of him welled up inside of him. Before he could find the words, Wynne appeared, and the moment vanished.

"She's resting. You can go back in there in a bit."

"Good. We should tell Fergus." Alistair looked over himself in distaste. "Wynne, could you stay with Daniel for a bit? Make sure he isn't seeing any of this, please. I'll be in there as soon as I can wash up."

"Of course."

… … …

Alistair had been removed from the Wardens for so long, he had almost forgotten the power of the bond they shared, the hollow, aching hole that the loss of a single life would inevitably leave behind. Almost, but not quite. No amount of time could make him forget the days that followed Ostagar, when the call in his blood cried out into a vast expanse of nothing at all, and only Elissa's mournful draw rose up in ghostly, muted response of what had once been a chorus of Brothers.

He could see the losses shadowed in her eyes when he returned later, though she smiled softly to herself when she saw Daniel, a bright spot in the gloom. The boy was still drowsy, his head rested sleepily against his father's shoulder as he carried him, but he refused to go back to sleep until he had seen Elissa for himself. Alistair idly stroked his hair and set him down, murmuring, "There she is. Go and say goodnight."

Daniel trotted over to the bedside and crawled up, curling up at his mother's uninjured side and closing his eyes. Elissa smiled. "Okay, sweetling—you can sleep with me tonight."

Alistair moved around to the other side of the bed, shaking a packet of herbs that Wynne had given him. "I've talked to Leliana. The elven girl, Alina—she seemed like a level-headed lass. She's going to act as his nurse while you recover." He frowned as he dumped the packet into a cup of water waiting on the table beside the bed. "Why doesn't he have one, by the way?"

Elissa moved as if to shrug, but immediately winced, her hand going to her injured shoulder. "No reason, really. At first I couldn't find anyone suitable, and so took him everywhere with me. I always had Zevran, Aeryc and Jaedan to help me when I couldn't. We just kind of got used to doing it that way, I think."

"I see." He fought back the urge to grimace at the sound of Jaedan's name. Alistair didn't even want to contemplate what kind of person insisted on competing with a memory. "Zevran wanted me to tell you that he was leading a scouting party to make sure the handful of darkspawn that escaped were properly routed back underground," he told her instead. "Well, he used a lot more fancy words than that, but that was the gist." He smiled when Elissa laughed quietly. "He didn't leave until he knew you were okay."

"I didn't think he had." She sighed and settled herself more comfortably against the pillows. "What is that?" She gestured to the herb-infused potion.

"This," he said, handing her the goblet, "is a specialized brew of Wynne's. She concocted it after spending a year listening to two young and reckless Grey Wardens insist they didn't have time to rest. It occurred to her to take away the option."

"You've finally resorted to drugging me, then?" she asked, but she took the cup when he handed it to her.

"I'll admit the idea of cutting off your chances of escape has its appeal, but no, it's just to help you sleep." He sighed, smoothing out the blankets that covered her hip with his hand. "I can't pretend that I don't hate this, Elissa."

She looked away, her gaze on the window and the deepening night that spread beyond it. "It's usually not this bad. Being the Warden Commander is dangerous, yes, but so is anything."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh really?" Before she could object his hand shot beneath the pillow to grasp the dagger he knew would be there and held it up to make his point. "Most people would prefer a stuffed animal." He tossed it onto the table.

"You were the one who insisted I start doing that."

"When we were camping out in the middle of nowhere with a Blight on our heels." He rubbed his face with his hands. "Haven't you ever wanted a normal life?"

She smiled softly and reached out to touch his fingers. "There's no normal life, Alistair. There's just life. I think this one suits us well enough."

He opened his mouth to argue further, but slowly shut it and shook his head instead. "Things will quiet down after this. Tell me what you want done, as far as the Order goes. I can send out messages and get some of these men stationed back at Ostagar. I was out on the ramparts earlier, trying to get a feel for what's left of the horde. I think the immediate threat is over."

"I'll see to it."

"You're supposed to be _resting_."

"It's not that bad. I'm just a little incapacitated is all."

"Well, then let me be capacitated for you." He smiled when she laughed at him. "What? It's a _word_."

"Aren't you busy enough without dealing with the after effects of my stupidity?"

"Maker forbid, you may have to let me take care of you for a few days." He absently rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Elissa, for the men you lost today. I wish I could have known them better."

She closed her eyes and looked away. "I do, too."

He leaned over and kissed her brow, breathing in the scent and warmth of her, trying again to assure himself that she was still alive. "Try not to do this to me again, please," he murmured. "I'll get down on my knees, if it helps."

She looked at him, wavering on the edge of remorse. "Alistair…"

"Get some sleep," he said, cutting her off. "I'll be back first thing in the morning."

… … …

Aeryc was in the outer chamber, his arms crossed over his chest while he argued with Sarah. He looked wearier than Alistair had ever seen him, pale and grey with exhaustion. The archer was oblivious to his grief. She looked positively mutinous, her blue eyes narrow and her anger riding high on her cheeks.

"I'm not some mage, to be playing healer. You should have sent me with the scouts!"

"You're not a Grey Warden yet, Sarah."

"Neither is that foul assassin, but he was allowed to go!"

Aeryc glared at her, and Alistair noticed for the first time just how formidable the man appeared when someone managed to provoke his temper. "Zevran knows much, much more about being a Warden than a thoughtless potential who thinks she needs to kill all the darkspawn in the world in one go. The men who you would call Brothers are downstairs even now, gasping out their last breath in the name of duty, while you plague me your constant whining that you aren't valued. It's high time you learned true strength, rather than this poor imitation that you carry. It's nothing more than a weakness in you." Sarah blinked at him, taken aback by the harsh assessment. "Go and help tend to your Brothers. You may learn something."

"Then put me through my Joining!" she said. "Make me a real Warden! It's well and good to lecture me about sacrifice, when you haven't even given me a chance to prove myself!"

It was too much, after the loss of the day. Alistair's voice was harsher than he expected when he spoke. "You have no idea what you're asking for, little girl." Sarah whirled around, startled to find him standing behind her. "Your commanding officer gave you an order," he said, and she nodded and scampered out the room. Alistair waited until she had gone. "She's going to get someone killed with that attitude."

"She could," Aeryc said with a sigh. "However, Elissa is more than capable of beating blood vengeance out of her recruits after they survive the Joining. Many of us came to the Grey Wardens after losing everything, Your Majesty. It's nothing we haven't dealt with before." He looked up and met Alistair's eyes. "The Joining will help her to see. You know that lesson well, I think."

Alistair leaned back against the wall, taking a moment to really look at the man Elissa had chosen to serve as her second in command. Aeryc's age was indeterminate, for he was a man for whom life had aged beyond his years. His face seemed carved out of stone at times, incapable of expressing anything more than a quiet smile by way of humor on rare occasions, but in the flickering firelight Alistair could see lines of care and grief that slashed his features like shallow scars. Sometime in this man's life his emotions had run strong, and cut deep.

Aeryc noticed his appraisal and nodded as if answering a question. "I understand Sarah better than most," he said. "My wife and son were killed when the darkspawn overran our village during the Blight." His eyes took on a faraway, haunted look as he stared into the fire, remembering. "Timothy was only a year older than Daniel is now."

"I'm sorry," Alistair whispered automatically, icy claws sinking into his flesh at the thought of losing the wide-eyed innocence that had completely captured his heart in so short a time.

"So am I," Aeryc said. "I lived in the same rage that Sarah knows for a year, fueled by mead and bitterness. I'll admit I reached a point where I was rather unfit to live before I learned the lesson I'm trying to teach Sarah."

"What helped you?"

Aeryc smiled his quiet smile. "I met Elissa." He glanced back at Alistair briefly before returning his eyes to the fire. "I was drunk, so sick I could barely stand and out of money. When I saw her and Zevran camping in a clearing, I thought to make a bit of quick coin and tried to lift their packs." He chuckled quietly to himself. "It didn't go well."

"And she _recruited_ you?" Alistair shook his head. "Why am I even surprised?"

Aeryc laughed again. "It's true, Elissa has questionable methods for deciding where to show her mercy. Zevran was all for killing me on the spot, but she stopped him. Maybe I said something that did it—I'm not certain. I don't remember it very clearly. But she took me in, threatening to invoke the Right of Conscription if I refused.

"Elissa knows grief. She knew there was still a chance for me, and she took it. When a man's broken down to naught, he becomes an animal. Give him a purpose, and he has a chance at being a man again." He met Alistair's eyes. "I just wanted you to know, Your Majesty, that I understand what you and Elissa went through to end the Blight. You two were the ones who brought an end to that carnage, despite what it cost you." He paused. "When it came time to report to the First Warden, I didn't have any trouble deciding where my loyalties belonged."

… … …

Elissa appeared to be sound asleep when he entered, but still Alistair crept inside, overwhelmed by a sudden desire to be near her. She was resting on her back, a testament to her injuries, since Elissa religiously slept on her left side, as he remembered. But her breathing was deep and peaceful, her face free of worry lines in repose. Alistair sat at the edge of the bed, looking at her and Daniel, warm under cover. As he watched them, the rest of the world fell away, leaving him to see how ridiculous it all had been. First leaving her, then letting her stay gone, and now being too afraid to ask her to stay.

He reached out and brushed the hair away from her eyes, bending forward so as not to wake Daniel. "Liss, can you hear me?" Her eyes opened only a crack, peeking at him through long, sooty lashes before they fell closed again. He leaned in close enough that his lip brushed the hair at her temple to whisper softly, "I love you."

Her eyes opened wider now, allowing him to see them clearly, and he knew with certainty that whatever war they had been waging was long over on his end. She had him, body and soul, captured somewhere in the endless blue of her eyes.

She reached out and gently caught his fingers, her voice barely a whisper. "Stay."

"Here?"

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Please don't leave."

There was more in those words than a request to spend the night beside her, and as Alistair slid beneath the blankets and gingerly slipped his arm around her waist, wary of hurting her, he tried to convey with his touch the vow that echoed in his mind of wistful, echoed regret.

For the first time in a long, long time, Alistair slept soundly.


	22. New Moon Rising

_**A/N: **__Credit to the "Dog with a bone" line given to BTVS, Season 7 Episode 15, "Get It Done." I just couldn't resist…_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty One**

_**New Moon Rising**_

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"_No one is given a Wyrd too harsh to bear, so long as it is taken up willingly and fully, deep in the soul."_

_~ "Daggerspell" by Katherine Kerr_

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Alistair woke the next morning with two realizations immediately drawing his attention out of rapidly fading dreams. The first was that he had slept for a really, really long time, to judge by the bright sun that filled the chamber. More demanding was the sensation of being rather precariously balanced on the very edge of the bed. Elissa was pressed right up against him, leaving him barely enough room to still be considered _in_ bed.

He propped himself up on his elbow—no easy feat with Elissa right there—and glanced over to see why he was being evicted. Elissa had gotten shoved to the side due to Daniel being spread out like a starfish, easily taking up more room than the two of them had combined.

No wonder she didn't let him sleep with her that often.

He toppled out of bed and rubbed his eyes, deciding he had better clear out before the boy woke up. He silently fetched his boots from the floor, yawning as he flopped down into the chair in the corner. Elissa moved in her sleep, her hand reaching into the empty space he had left behind before her eyes opened marginally.

"Go back to sleep," he said, tugging at his laces. She rolled more fully onto her back, breathing a sigh of relief at the additional space. Alistair chuckled beneath his breath. "You want me to move him?"

"No," she murmured. "He'll be up soon, anyway."

He crouched down at the bedside, reaching over to gently brush aside a lock of hair. "Do you need anything before I go downstairs?"

She winced, shifting uncomfortably. "Not unless you have an extra lung without holes in it."

"Damn. I left it in my other pants."

"Some help you are."

He laughed again. "I'll send Wynne up. She's probably been waiting to fuss over you all morning."

She peeked up at him. "You're not drugging me anymore today."

"Sit still and I won't have to," he said with a smile, bending down to kiss her temple. "Go back to sleep."

"If you insist." Her voice faded as she drifted off again.

He crept from the room, pausing long enough to give an exasperated look to the pair of guards stationed in the hallway. "Really? Is it that hard to watch the door from across the hall? You had to let everyone know I was in here all night? Her _brother_ is here."

They only blinked at him.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to explain it to you," he muttered. "Where's Wynne?"

"In the great hall, Your Majesty. They're moving the rest of the wounded to the Chantry this morning."

The castle seemed to be in higher spirits than he had expected, basking in the knowledge that once again their overlord had managed to protect them from the darkspawn. Despite Elissa's protests, Teagan had ridden out beside Fergus, ready to defend Redcliffe with a sword in his hand. Leliana had handled the entire situation with the confident grace befitting an arlessa, fulfilling her duties to the household, but Alistair had seen the frustration in her eyes throughout the day. Her gaze would occasionally drift over to her old bow, sitting abandoned in the corner of the great hall.

He could sympathize.

It was Leliana he found first, standing a little off to the side while the wounded were carried out to waiting carts in the courtyard. She looked tired, but smiled as she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, chatting quietly with Aeryc. He joined their conversation in time to hear that Aeryc intended to build a pyre for the Grey Wardens that had fallen during the battle, outside of town where they could put their dead to rest in private.

Alistair put a friendly arm around Leliana's shoulders, offering her what comfort he could. "Are you ready to be rid of us yet?"

She laughed softly and rested her head on his shoulder, watching the line of men as they passed. "And why would I be? The Grey Wardens once again threw themselves between Redcliffe and danger. It would have been so much worse were you not here." Alistair held his tongue against the grumble that he hadn't been allowed to do much, deciding that a sulk was the last thing his friend needed right now. She sighed softly. "I will admit, my heart is sore this morning, but it's nothing we have not experienced before."

Alistair saw Darren being carried on a cot by two Wardens, nothing more than a bandaged stump where an arm had once been. He winced and glanced up at Aeryc. The man nodded calmly, but his eyes were smoldering as he looked down at his nephew. "He'll recover. He's stubborn as a wild boar, this one."

"You should talk," Darren said as they passed.

Aeryc laughed quietly. "You see?" He glanced around the nearly empty hall. "You're welcome to accompany us this afternoon, Your Majesty. As are you, my lady."

Leliana shook her head, still resting on Alistair's shoulder. "No, though I thank you for the thought. If I learned anything from these two, it is that the Grey Wardens share something I cannot begin to understand. I would only be intruding." She lifted her head, looking up at Alistair. "You should go. Arlina is more than capable of handling both of the boys, and I think it would do me good to spend an afternoon with them as well. Besides, I doubt Morrigan will suffer Wynne's administrations for long."

"What's wrong with Morrigan?" he asked, feeling an unfamiliar twinge of guilt that he hadn't known, or really cared, that she was injured.

Of course, after the tongue lashing he had gotten when she appeared to fetch Kern the day before, it was understandable if he didn't dwell on a desire for her continued health.

"Nothing serious," Aeryc answered, explaining when Alistair raised an eyebrow at him, "I checked on her and her son this morning, just to make sure. She's still weaker than she'll admit to, and the exertion she spent yesterday didn't help. I'm surprised Wynne even bothered, but she seemed determined to make sure the witch was recovering. Healer's instinct, I suppose. They were still snarling at each other when I decided it healthier if I left." He gave Alistair a crooked grin. "Those are two intimidating women you managed to survive during the Blight, your Majesty."

"Two?" Alistair laughed and gave Leliana a little squeeze when she giggled. "Even Sten caught on eventually. We lowly men learned very quickly to keep our mouths shut, believe me."

… … …

The circle of Wardens stood silent as death, the firelight from the pyre reflected in their dark eyes as the flames shot into the sky, lighting the secluded clearing with an eerie orange glow. Alistair could feel the sorrow all around him, floating between the spectators in an outpouring of shared grief, making it less lonely. He felt a part of it, watching as the flames claimed what remained of the fallen, felt the strength of those around him supporting him as they supported each other. It was something else he had given up when he lost Elissa, mercifully re-found and realized only recently.

He had Brothers again.

He stood between Aeryc and Sarah, the young woman breathing heavily in the stillness, fear of what was to come finally catching up and sinking into her. Aeryc had chosen this moment to put her through her Joining, with the evidence of the sacrifice of others not ten feet away. When the Lieutenant Commander turned to her, the others did the same as if by some unspoken signal.

"Are you ready?"

"I am," she answered, and though Alistair could see her shaking her voice was steady.

"Alistair," he said, calling him by his given name for the first time since he had met him. It seemed appropriate, now. "You're the senior Grey Warden here."

With a deep breath he stepped forward, pity and fear for the young woman standing before him swelling in his chest. Sarah was possibly the most infuriating woman he had ever met, but he didn't want to see her die at his feet. It was the hardest part of being a Grey Warden, the not knowing, but his voice was even as he recited the words he hadn't uttered since Elissa's Joining a lifetime ago.

Sarah collapsed a moment later, and Aeryc knelt down beside her and reached out, gentle fingers against her throat. "She'll live," he announced after a moment, to a collective sigh of relief from the others. "Head back to the castle. I'll wait for her to wake up."

"I'll wait with you," Alistair said quietly. A thought had come to him in the clearing, the pressing knowledge that they still had a job to do, and that he had put it off for long enough. The cave in Highever had to be found and collapsed, before any more men were lost to the horde the lurked beneath the surface.

He knew, when the time came, he'd be riding out with them.

"Highever," he said to Aeryc, settling down in the grass for the long wait before Sarah would awaken. "Tomorrow."

Aeryc nodded thoughtfully. "Think Liss can make the trip?"

"Think she'll care?"

Aeryc conceded that by not answering. "I'll have the men ready to march in the morning."

Elissa was startled awake by the sound of the door flying open and the abrupt entrance of her brother, who seemed incapable of moving quietly. Ever. "Go away." She groaned when she caught the look on his face, sure she was in for a lecture.

She wasn't wrong.

"So I'm in Highever," he said, crossing his arms, "moving the herds for the summer months, enjoying a good bit of weather, thinking of making a visit to the country dun and taking an extended hunting trip, when I get a visit from Bann Wulfric, freshly come from Teagan and Leliana's wedding."

"It's a shame you missed that, you know. It was a beautiful ceremony."

He completely ignored her attempt to change the subject. "Wulfric gossips as bad as a pack of hens, I know, and so I settle in, mead on hand to make his stories seem a bit more interesting, when he starts in with some wild tale his daughter told him regarding my nephew and the _king of Ferelden_."

"How is Vivian?"

"Elissa!"

She rolled her eyes and struggled to sit up, feeling dizzy and off balance from lying down all day. "Fergus, do we have to do this right now? I'm not really feeling up to trying to beat some sense into you."

His expression softened somewhat. "Yes, as a matter of fact we do. I'd feel sorrier for you if you weren't so determined to get yourself killed, but I can't wait to try and talk about this in between all of your injuries."

She scowled at him as she adjusted the pillows behind her. "You're as bad as Alistair, you know."

Fergus raised his eyebrows, imitating surprise. "So its Alistair again, is it? I was beginning to think 'that ungrateful rat bastard' was some sort of nickname." He shook his head with a sound of disgust and sat at the foot of the bed, reaching out to rest a hand on her foot despite his annoyance with her. "Is it true, Elissa?"

"Is that why you came?"

"It seemed a matter of some importance." He paused. "Is it true?"

She sighed and let her head drop back. "It's true."

She expected him to blow up, to pace around raving about how irresponsible she was, to generally make her feel small and stupid until she lost her temper and the shouting began. What she didn't expect him to sigh softly and run a hand over his face, looking incredibly tired. "Did he know?" There was a hint of anger to his voice, a purely protective instinct rising at the thought that his sister had been cast aside.

"No," she answered quickly before the steam could build.

He gazed up at the ceiling, thinking. "You realize he could have you—both of us—tried for treason for this. Hiding Daniel was a direct threat to the line, particularly in Alistair's case. I can't believe you would be so foolish."

She could feel her temper beginning to flare. "And what was I supposed to do, Fergus? They all but ran me out of Denerim, and they kept the letters I sent from him. I didn't exactly want to do this all by myself, you know."

"Don't try to weasel out of this. You can save the smooth arguments for people who don't know you. I know full well that Eamon's a suspicious, meddling old bastard, but you had other options. You were just pissed and hurt and gave up. Elissa, you should have told me from the beginning," he added, more gently than she would have expected. "I know better than almost anyone what that whole thing did to you. You shouldn't have shouldered it on your own. And I could have told him, _without_ his advisors being involved." He got up, slowly walking back and forth, his arms crossed and had lowered, falling back into the role of teyrn rather than older brother, and one who had to decide the next course of action. "What does he plan to do now?"

She sighed, wishing she could just tell him to mind his own business, but the situation had spread well beyond her control of it. The whole conversation was leaving a bad taste in her mouth. That's what happened, she thought, when you drink with royalty. "Daniel will appear in front of the Landsmeet once we return to Denerim."

He glanced up then, startled. "He's going to try to get him legitimized?"

"Of course he is," she said with some exasperation. "The Landsmeet has been clamoring for an heir for five years, and now he's got one. And Alistair wouldn't want Daniel to grow up with the stigma of bastard, anyway. Trust me on that."

"Not to mention it will stave off the pressure to marry a bit longer," he said, in visibly higher spirits at the idea of a Cousland finally being in line for the throne. He continued pacing, smiling to himself as he thought out the possibilities. She would be foolish in the extreme not to believe he was setting his hopes on just who Alistair would eventually marry. He was practically giddy. "Not that I can blame him for that, mind. You should see some of the nags they tried to set him up with. Awful."

"He told me about trying to set you up with Anora." She giggled, grateful she apparently wasn't about to be crucified.

Fergus suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, obviously I didn't want the headache of my wife trying to poison my sister at every turn, but she's not as bad as you seem to think. She's smart, and well-spoken, and genuinely in love with this country. She only wanted to see it cared for. Her hostility towards Alistair has dimmed since he proved he could do that. A little, anyway. She still hates you."

Elissa gaped at him before reaching back and hurling a pillow at his head. "Andraste's ass, you have a thing for Anora!"

"I do not!"

"Anora, of all people! She had me thrown in prison, you know!"

"Oh come, on, Liss—she was terrified. And you got out."

It was nearly dusk when Alistair returned, supporting Sarah with one arm around her waist while she stumbled between he and Aeryc, sick and stumbling.

"I've got her," Aeryc said when they reached the courtyard, slipping Sarah's other arm around his shoulder. Alistair nodded but didn't answer, having caught sight of Morrigan and Kern in the yard.

"I'll be up in a bit," Alistair said to the couple before starting off in the witch's direction. Kern looked up and smiled when he approached, making Morrigan scowl darkly in his direction. She apparently hadn't forgiven him yet.

Or likely ever would, for that matter.

"I just wanted to tell you we're leaving for Highever in the morning," he said, beginning to be sorry he'd approached her. "Have him ready to go at dawn."

"Very well," she said, crossing her arms. When he made no move to leave, she raised her eyebrow at him. "Was there something else?"

He didn't know, really, and he definitely had no reason at all to want to linger in her presence, but something pulled at him all the same, and he found himself watching the little boy in the grass. "How is he?" he asked before he could help himself, unable to keep the longing out of his voice.

Which was a huge mistake, with Morrigan right there.

She stepped nearer, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she put on the sensual smile that seemed to be her new weapon of choice in making him go away. "This has become a habit for you, Alistair, to seek me out." She leaned against him, still smiling. "I wonder if there is another purpose which drives you to do so?"

Alistair growled beneath and gave her an annoyed look, putting his hands on her shoulders and deliberately stepping back rather than pushing her away. "Would you let it go already? Maker's breath, you're like a dog with a bone."

"And?"

"It's my bone!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I was trying to be nice to you just now. Why do you have to make it such hard work?"

She glared at him, fully threatening now. "Neither of us have any desire for your supposed concern."

He sighed and glanced at Kern again. He was idly playing with a blade of grass, solemn and sad-eyed, trying to pretend he hadn't heard anything.

Alistair shook his head and fixed Morrigan with a frustrated look, sorry he had lost his temper in front of him again. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," he said quietly.

The courtyard was crowded and noisy the next morning, a small army of guards, Wardens, soldiers and servants hastily shuffling about trying to get organized. Alistair pulled Leliana into a long hug to say good-bye after she was done saying her farewells to Elissa and Zevran.

"I don't understand why you feel you have to leave so soon," Leliana murmured against his shoulder. "I miss you all so much. I had hoped you could stay longer."

"I know. Duty calls, as usual. I'll try to get back in the spring." He released her and stepped back, smiling. "And you're officially an arlessa now. I'm sure that will be enough pull to get you to Denerim on occasion."

Leliana looked up at him, her eyes bright and decidedly sly. "And will Elissa be there as well?"

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Snoop."

"Foot dragger."

He laughed and went to his horse, stopping to lean over the side of the cart where Elissa lay, watched over by Wynne.

"You tell me if you need to stop."

"I will."

"For _real_, Elissa," he said, not quite missing the way she rolled her eyes at him before the messenger jogged up. "See that gets put directly into Arl Eamon's hands, and no one else," he said as he handed over a sealed letter. He sighed when the man left, glancing at Elissa. "Eamon's going to have a fit when he finds out where I'm going."

She smirked at him. "Good."

Unable to get away from the years where he offered advice, Fergus frowned and bit his lip, but Alistair only grinned at him as he swung himself into the saddle. "Out with it, Fergus."

"Your Majesty, forgive me, but if something were to happen to you, Arl Eamon would automatically serve as regent until Daniel came of age. I'm not entirely sure I trust him to petition my nephew's best interests."

"Oh, no need to worry about that. Eamon will be stepping down as regent on my return to Denerim, effective immediately if I go and get myself killed. I've already chosen his successor."

"Who?"

Alistair nudged his horse forward. "You."

Elissa clutched her middle and laughed at the sight of her big-mouthed brother completely speechless.


	23. Enemies

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_**Enemies**_

.

"_A man is made by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once. I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me..."_

_~ Loghain, Dragon Age Origins_

.

.

"You've been unusually quiet lately. Should I be nervous?"

It was rarely that Zevran was startled, particularly by heavy-footed clods like Alistair, but the Antivan had to admit, at least to himself, that he quite simply hadn't heard the man coming. It was no easy thing, to associate Alistair with soft, supple boots and light tunics rather than grating, clanking armor, and more than once he had been startled to find that the approaching footsteps belonged to the young king when he had been expecting Aeryc or Darren: a carelessness that was rapidly reaching unforgivable in Zevran's book.

It was most distressing.

Granted, he had been less than diligent of late, lost in his thoughts and trying to make the best of it with a mind that was unaccustomed to the rigors of deep thought and introspection. Zevran had never been a man of speculation. He had gone through life riding a wave of careless freedom, depending on a sharp intellect and sharper sense of self-preservation to see him through. What he wanted, he took. What he disliked tended to die and was thus no longer of any concern.

Rinna had changed that forever. After her, what had once been a game of wits in which winner took all became frighteningly real. For the first time, Zevran could not glibly write off his losses and get up from the table. He had to live with the consequences of his actions, and those consequences were steeper than he ever could have imagined.

He chose not to.

It hadn't worked.

That Elissa had spared him when he didn't deserve sparing was enough to earn his loyalty. That she called him friend sealed it forever. Since the day she had first kicked him to consciousness on the dusty road that was supposed to be her end, she had been by his side, his friend and sister, the only family he had ever permitted himself to know. Never had he needed to consider the future of that, or what he would do when another life rose on the horizon and beckoned to her, its peace promising repaired dreams and the absence of pain that she had carried for far too long. It was more than anything he could hope to offer. It left him floundering, unable to cope with the tides of change that were crashing against him.

He didn't care for it.

The ex-templar sat down nearby without invitation, though Zevran thought it was more likely due to his close proximity to the fire than anything. The night was chill and moist for summer, signaling a high likelihood of rain in the morning.

"How is Elissa?" he asked, not truly desiring a conversation with the idiot who was once again fraying his existence at the seams, but his concern for his friend overruled any dislike. At least until Alistair started speaking again.

"You know, her name is Elissa. Eh-liss-ah. Not Eeleesa. You'd think you'd learn to say her name right, given what you claim she means to you." Alistair held up his hands to the fire; Zevran noticed the creases of his fingernails were stained green from handling whatever herbs Wynne had prescribed. Alistair seemed to be taking his self-appointed duty of caring for his beloved Warden quite seriously. Indeed, even more seriously than he ever had during the Blight. But then, it was a rare thing, back then, for Elissa to be injured while he was not. The two did tend to share an incomprehensible habit of throwing themselves in harm's way. "She's grumbling and basically being a pain in the neck." He smiled affectionately. "I'd say she's fine." He leaned back against his bedroll, yet to be laid out in his tent, and opened a book. "She's sleeping now."

For both public consideration as well as the fact that this time they traveled with children, Alistair and Elissa were keeping separate tents on this journey, though Zevran had his doubts that arrangement would last very long. Still, they didn't have much choice in behaving themselves. No matter how they had tried during the Blight, it was impossible to keep completely quiet when indulging in life's more pleasurable activities. They simply could not risk it now.

One could be thankful for small mercies.

Silence fell, the sounds of the nightly forest drifting on the soft summer breeze, guiding Zevran towards not entirely welcome memories of the last time he had traveled with the man beside him. But the only familiarities between now and then were the crackling of the fire and the rustling of leaves; the sounds of muted voices as the watch made a perimeter of the camp. Now the watch was made up of armed guards in the king's service instead of familiar friends—the carts were driven by servants and filled with trunks and supplies instead of weapons and potions, and most importantly, the man beside him wore a golden signet ring as he quietly perused the pages of a book, instead of polishing his armor and cracking ill-timed jokes across the camp at those he deemed friends.

Though the passing years had not changed Alistair's admittedly attractive face in the slightest, it was sometimes almost hard to recognize him now. He was more thoughtful, his features less inclined to express every emotion that stomped through his brain. Even his childish sense of humor had been muted, ever-present though it was, evolving into something more befitting a grown man rather than an earnest, eager boy blundering through life outside the Chantry. He was, quite simply, more desirable now than he ever had been back then.

_Prick_.

Alistair shut the book with a snap and heaved a sigh, shoving a hand through his hair. It was slightly longer than it had been, pushed back from his forehead in a style far more regal than the spiky atrocity he had sported during the Blight. "So what's going on with you, anyway?"

Zevran sighed to himself and rolled his eyes until they were resting on the belligerent man. "How nice, to see how your lessons in intrigue and subtlety have aided your approach to garnering information."

"And when have I ever put so much effort into figuring _you_ out?"

"Never, most assuredly, though forgive me if I had not realized that the obliviousness was deliberate." Zevran pulled at his cloak in distaste against the mists that gathered in between the trees, creating droplets of moisture on the leaves and grass. He would never, ever grow accustomed to temperamental Ferelden weather. "Why this sudden concern for my peace of mind?"

Alistair frowned to himself, thinking. "I don't really know," he said at length. "Except it seems like an awful lot of effort to hate you for so long, and Elissa, well… doesn't." He shook his head, a little baffled by a turn of events he most likely didn't appreciate. "It's frankly getting too exhausting for my tastes. Also, I seem to already be having trouble falling asleep without Elissa, and you're the only one awake. So… here we are."

"I am flattered," he said. "Let it never be said that I do not at least serve as a passable distraction. Still, you spark my curiosity. Elissa has not hated me from the start. It did not seem to stop you then. Why the sudden change of heart?" He smiled, sharp and mocking. "Are you afraid she knows something you do not?"

"Nope. I still think she's insane to trust you." He looked slightly uncomfortable. "But… I'm trying to understand her better, now. I think, maybe if I had tried harder back then…"

"Then you would not have ripped her heart from her chest and stomped it to a bloody, mangled pulp on the cobbles of your courtyard?"

It _never_ got old, watching the boy turn livid with annoyance that was too strong even for the new king in him to disguise. "This is what I get for trying to make nice with people who hate me. You and Morrigan should give lessons in how to belittle effort."

Zevran flashed him another grin. "Ah, poor, naive Alistair. Our dislike of each other was not preordained, you realize. It was nurtured like any other relationship. You did not think such effort would fall to waste simply because you deemed it time, did you?"

"Not really. I was just hoping you'd be less of shithead about it."

Zevran laughed at the grumbled reply. "I am not likely to change my nature at any point in the near future, you realize. Let me save you the effort of trying to think too hard on it, lest you strain yourself. I will forever want for strong wine, stronger women, and yearn for the sunrise of Antiva. It is to be expected."

"So that's it," Alistair said quietly, smiling entirely too confidently to himself for Zevran's liking, as if he had solved an internal riddle. "You want to go home."

Zevran scowled at the unexpected perception. Having to watch what he said was only a new aspect of whatever it was Alistair had become. He rather missed the denser version. "I have no desire to leave Elissa."

"I didn't say you did."

The boy fell silent again, flipping through the pages of the book. The quiet began to grate on Zevran's nerves. "No witty comebacks? Juvenile attempts to mock me for my homesickened state? I must say, I am almost offended."

Alistair laughed darkly. "What, did you expect me to _stop_ you? By all means—I'll get you the passage on the ship myself. I hear Antiva is lovely this time of year."

The assassin scowled to himself for walking into that one.

Alistair ran his fingers through his hair again, looking distinctly disgruntled. "You can always come back," he said grudgingly. Zevran looked up sharply, but Alistair refused to take his gaze off the book, though it must have been impossible to read in the poor light. "No one says you have to stay gone if you want to go and eat chowder and smell leather and whatever other weird fetishes you're harboring." He paused, then offered reluctantly, "I've thought about what to do with you, before this. Having an assassin around to keep an eye on Elissa and Daniel wouldn't be such a terrible idea. At the very least you understand the tricks of the trade." He sighed. "I've no interest in making Elissa unhappy just because you annoy the crap out of me."

"You think to marry her, don't you?"

Alistair didn't answer that, but then, he didn't need to. Such an inane question certainly didn't deserve an answer. Of course he planned to marry Elissa. No man went to as much trouble as he had over the past two months only to make the same mistake twice, and he had obviously put a great deal of thought into doing whatever it took to make Elissa happy. Zevran didn't know how Elissa felt about it yet, as she still refused to discuss it with him, but he…

Well, he didn't know how he felt about it either.

The sound of small footsteps saved him from his own thoughts, and it was with some satisfaction that he noted it took Alistair longer to hear them. He started and nearly dropped his infuriating book when he discovered Kern standing next to him, his dark hair more curly then wavy and tousled from sleep.

"What's the matter?" Alistair asked as the boy sat down beside him and curled up at his side. Over the past three days on the road, Morrigan had been forced to concede that Kern and Daniel wanted to be together. Though she disguised it admirably, Zevran knew that the child was the witch's one soft spot, his vulnerability and admittedly sweet nature awakening instincts and garnering concessions he never could have imagined in her before. However, with Daniel came Alistair, and the young man wasn't about to overlook the opportunity to spend the time with the other child. Morrigan could protest as much as she liked, Zevran thought, but she was a fool if she had thought to keep them separated. Alistair had a core of common decency that would never be shaken. If she had not prepared for him to look upon the result of their one night together as his son, then she had absolutely no understanding of him at all.

It was leaving her in a foul enough mood that Zevran was strictly avoiding her for fear that he would get parts of himself he was quite fond of frozen off at one wrong word.

Kern rubbed his eye with a small hand. "I had a bad dream."

"What about?" Alistair asked, his argument with Zevran forgotten as he put an arm around the boy and pulled him close.

"Bears."

"Bears?" He laughed quietly. "I don't think you have to worry about them. There's a dozen men with swords, all here to protect you. And there's Aiden. That mutt's bigger than a lot of bears."

"I know. But Mum's not here. She's flying."

Alistair seemed less annoyed with mention of the witch's habits than usual. But then, while it was true that she hunted in the evenings, still unwilling after all this time to take her meals with them, Morrigan was also making a wide circuit of the area, watching for any roaming bands of darkspawn who may still be able to sense her son. Even Alistair couldn't fault her for that.

"Come on," he said, pushing himself to his feet and taking Kern's free hand. "You can sleep next to Daniel until your mother gets back. Aiden's in there, too. Will that help?"

He nodded, padding quietly behind his father to the small tent set aside for Daniel.

Alistair apparently took his time in tucking the boy in, because Zevran was nodding towards sleep and considering retiring to his own tent when he finally returned. He considered it even more seriously then, not particularly wanting to start up another conversation with the infuriating man, but Alistair seemed determined to talk.

This time, Zevran could not exactly fault him.

"You spent a lot of time with Kern and Morrigan, didn't you?"

Zevran shrugged. "If you consider the shortened journey in which she did little more than berate me and blame our complications on my incompetence, then yes, I suppose you could say so."

Alistair resumed his place on the ground, thinking something through. "If I tried to ask you a serious question, how would that go over?"

The assassin smiled. "How grave you are these days, my friend. I find this new approach most stimulating. Would that you were this interesting before. I might have had to put for the effort to see what exactly it took to make you hop borders, as it were."

Alistair scowled. "Not well, then."

Zevran laughed. There was a time when Alistair would not have understood the reference. The change amused him. "No. I admit, my friend, you have me intrigued. Ask your question. I will answer to the best of my ability."

Alistair seemed to struggle with himself, wary of falling into another verbal trap, but in the end, his desire to know more about the fruit of his loins apparently got the better of him. "When you were with them," he said slowly, "what did you… notice… about Kern?"

Zevran considered. It went against his nature to try to aid Alistair in any way, but he was discovering, rather quickly and with some disappointment, that he had his own soft spot where the boy who carried the soul of an ancient god was concerned. And, though Zevran would never have admitted it out loud, to _anyone_, Alistair was an exceptional father. Something that Kern needed, if Morrigan ever permitted it. With an internal sigh, he answered, "There are things that make him very special, compared to most people." When Alistair glanced at him, surprised at the solemn response, Zevran gave a half shrug. "I would not want you to be… shocked … at his more unorthodox qualities."

"He's clairvoyant," Alistair said, and Zevran raised his eyebrows. Alistair barely kept from rolling his eyes at him. "Maker's breath—always the look of surprise. I had to study all types of magic for ten years, you know. I'm not a complete moron." He shook his head. "I wasn't exactly expecting him to be as normal as he is. The mind-reading was kind of a given. He's a healer, too, apparently." Alistair looked into the fire, and when he spoke again, it seemed almost to be to himself. "There's power there that I've never heard of. Something beyond the reach of the mages. Knowledge long lost, maybe." He shook himself, turning back to Zevran. "What I want to know is how strong the clairvoyance is, whether or not he can control it."

Zevran nodded knowingly, seeing now where this line of questioning was leading. "What you want to know is if _he_ knows that you are his father."

"Well… yes."

Zevran shrugged carelessly. "I cannot know, of course, but it would be foolish in the extreme to assume that he does not, unless Morrigan has been unusually careful in utterly keeping you from her thoughts for the past five years. I rather doubt she was able, given the resemblance."

Alistair frowned. "So the only things he would know about me are whatever skewed memories she has in that nightmare she calls a mind? Awesome. That shouldn't cause any lasting damage."

"Let us not forget that he has been in your company of late," Zevran pointed out, not quite willing to let Alistair's arrogance put all the blame on Morrigan. "And your mind is far less disciplined then hers, no?"

Alistair started to retort, but snapped his mouth shut and crossed his arms, settling into a sulk. Zevran laughed to himself. "It begins to seem like you are the man in the fable who will push a boulder uphill for all eternity sometimes, does it not? Perhaps you should take more care in how unwieldy that boulder becomes."

"Riiight. I'll think only happy, flattering thoughts about Morrigan from now on. _That's_ going to happen."

Zevran frowned in honest disappointment. Alistair's hostile dislike of Morrigan seemed so out of place, even after all this time. He had thought that her giving him a son would at least lessen it a little. "Does he seem uncared for? Underfed, with the exception of the months she spent running from the darkspawn? No? Mistreated, then? Showing signs of being beaten or bullied in some way?" Zevran shook his head. "It seems your case against the witch begins to grow rather thin."

He didn't answer at first. "Fine then, tell me something." Despite the sarcasm, there was earnestness in the hazel eyes. "Do you think that Kern is dangerous in some way?"

"I think he is a child."

"That's not what I asked you."

"But it is. He is a child," Zevran said quietly. "He sees things, more clearly than most of us, and he is frighteningly intelligent, more so than I, and infinitely more so than you. But he laughs, and he plays, and he very much enjoys being read to before he sleeps. He occasionally is known to throw a sit down, screaming tantrum, though Morrigan is generally quick to put an end to that behavior." He looked Alistair in the eye, almost hesitant of his next words. "And, he appears to be growing very fond of you. Though, I am not overly surprised in that regard." Alistair looked confused, a crease appearing between his eyes. So he was still naïve, in some ways. Zevran shrugged. "It is no secret that I have very little respect and less like for you, but I also know you, at least, understand what it means to be cast aside, forgotten in the shadow of the treasured crown prince. I will admit, part of me feared for that outcome when you learned of Daniel. He is the son born of the woman that you loved, the one who will carry on your name. But you have been quite kind to Kern, when you are permitted."

"When I'm permitted," he repeated, and then laughed bitterly to himself. "When I agreed to… all of this, I didn't really see what I was doing. Morrigan will never let me be what I want to be. Never."

"And why should she?" Zevran asked, suddenly out of patience. "You claim you wish to understand, but you are still so quick to judge, little templar. You see the world in black and white, and label those of us who are comfortable walking in the grey. You berate her, you criticize her, you do everything but tell her that you are better than she could ever hope to be. Yet she has cared for your son, most diligently. She has risked her life to keep him safe. If you have nothing else in common, you have that. You love the child, no? Perhaps it is time you start to focus on her redeeming qualities." He drew in a deep breath, disappointed with himself for having lost his temper. "If you truly wish to understand Elissa, you must first understand that much about her. Elissa sees past these imperfections that make us human. If you cannot, you will never really know her."

"You really are living in your own little world, aren't you?" Though Alistair's voice remained calm, there was a new warning in his eyes that Zevran heeded warily. "You see me as nothing more than a witless child. You seem to think that you know everything, while a poor, sheltered soul like me goes blithely on, indulging in idealism. That may have been true, then, but you're the one living in the past, Zevran. You hold it against me at every turn, what I did to Elissa, and now Morrigan. Everything's nice and neat that way." He shook his head. "I regret the night I spent with Morrigan every day of my life. And no, not because I'm disgusted by the ritual or the blood magic, but because now I see that there's a real little boy out there that I agreed to _abandon_. Do you have any idea what it's like to live with that?" His voice caught, and Zevran was faintly disgusted at the ghost of pity that snaked through him. "It was a mistake. I'll readily admit it. But I'm trying. I want to know him. And if you believe it or not, the reason why I'm killing myself protecting Morrigan is because I know full well that she loves him, even if she would never use those words."

Zevran had no real response for that, and Alistair continued ruthlessly. "And, I never wanted to leave Elissa. I begged her not force that decision. Regardless of what you may think, the being unable to provide an heir was a very important concern. No, I didn't handle it well. I made her suffer more than she should have. I'll beg for her forgiveness for that for the rest of my life if I have to, and I'll tell you as much if it makes you _back off,_ but I'm certainly not answerable to you. Not now, not ever." He opened his book, settling lower into his relaxed position to indicate that this conversation was over. "See? I can make speeches, too. Ass."

Zevran laughed beneath his breath. "You have grown rather surprising in your old age."

"And yet I still really don't like you."

"Then I will have to assure myself that I have not yet lost my touch, my friend.


	24. Witch

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_**Witch**_

.

_Where did I go wrong?_

_I lost a friend_

_Somewhere along in the bitterness…_

_~ The Fray_

_._

_._

It was an old dream.

When Elissa found herself staring up at the roof of Fort Drakon, she forcefully told herself that it was a dream and only a dream, but the repeated conviction did nothing to dissipate her rising terror.

Memories—not a dream. Never just a dream.

Her awareness slipped away like water drawn back to the sea, sweeping her along until she could smell the burning thatch, feel the clotting smoke choking her lungs. She ran, the details of her surroundings blurring together into one indefinite flash of bedlam until she saw the black wings spread across the sky, blocking out all other sight. The Archdemon leered down at her, forked tongue hissing menacingly, its sights focused solely on her and Alistair.

The darkspawn taint churned beneath the surface of her flesh like a tide of molten lava, coursing through her in a frenzied rhythm of Hunt, Kill, Destroy. It overwhelmed her senses, burning away whatever it was that made her Elissa Cousland. She wasn't a young girl lost in her suffering, not anymore. She was a Hunter, a blinding force of berserker rage, and when the darkspawn swarmed onto the rooftop and blocked the path between her and her goal, she knew only that they would die.

She and Alistair cut a bloody swath through their ranks, driven by the primal instinct only known to Grey Wardens in the presence of the Archdemon, hot and ruthless until even their companions looked upon them with horrified fascination, careful to stay out of their way. Elissa paid them no heed. They couldn't understand the underlying demon that had been poured into her blood, the tainted rage that caused Riordan to leap off of a rooftop without hesitation, his humanity given over to the wailing instinct that thundered through them.

_Kill_.

She shouted her orders to Wynne and Morrigan to stay back before she rushed the monster, leaping over crushed bodies and dodging the chaos of flinging spells, Alistair right beside her. Without need for words, they split up at the last moment and flanked the beast. Her blades found every weakness, diving into the chinks between hardened scales and drawing furious roars from the dragon.

Slowly, the blood frenzy slowly began to ebb, fading to a dim ringing in her ears. She was aware of her aching muscles, the numerous cuts and scrapes that marred her body. Elissa felt a gradual sense of herself returning as the Call quieted, weakening.

The Archdemon was dying.

She pressed on, feeling the effects of Wynne's rejuvenating magic bolster her flagging strength. They had it now… it was almost over…

She was so focused on the task she didn't see the tail swiping at her until it was too late. The blow hit her with force enough to crack her ribs, sending her hurling across the rooftop where she slammed into the stone wall. Dazed and hurting, she fought to her hands and knees, raising frantic eyes to Alistair, still in melee with the dragon. He fought ferociously, stepping in closer with every swing, barely dodging claws and teeth as he looked for an opening, for the spot of vulnerability that would bring it down for good.

He wasn't going to let up—he was going to kill it himself.

Elissa shook off the blow and shoved herself to her feet, all pain forgotten as she sprinted towards the Archdemon. She had to stop him. The ritual, their supposed precautions—it all seemed ridiculous now as death stared him down with red, glowing eyes.

A new wave of darkspawn broke free of the fortress—she saw out of the corner of her eye as Zevran went down into a mob of hurlocks. Sten battled to hold them at bay and enable the Wardens to complete their mission, Oghren shouted something that sounded like a warning…

A group of shrieks broke through the line and mobbed Alistair, grabbing him from behind. It happened in the blink of an eye, the distraction that the Archdemon had been waiting for. The enormous dragon hissed like a thousand snakes and struck out at the tiny being that had caused it such pain. Its claws tore through Alistair's armor like a hot knife through butter. He fell in a gush of blood. At the sight, Elissa's soul screeched out in denial—he couldn't be dead, Maker, please…not now…

Tears burned in her eyes but she didn't stop, yanking a sword out of a nearby corpse, forcing herself to focus only on her duty. The armies were falling to the darkspawn; the mages' spells were waning. This was their only chance.

She didn't dare look.

There was a sudden eruption of magic—Morrigan's spell blew the shrieks off of the fallen templar with the force of a hurricane before the witch turned frantic eyes on her, horrified as the realization of her plan became clear.

So, Morrigan had expected him to take the final blow all along.

Alistair shifted and struggled to rise, reaching out a useless hand as she ran past. The first proof that he still loved her was blazing in his eyes as he fought to stand, crawling towards the dragon, which lay in a bloody, broken heap only a few feet away. "Elissa…" his voice was too weak, the arm clutching his middle already soaked crimson. "Don't…."

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She wanted only for it to be over, one way or another.

She drove her sword through its skull.

Blazing heat, a flash of light…

The dream shifted.

Elissa blinked, expecting to find herself awake after the inevitable conclusion of her reoccurring nightmare. Instead, she found herself standing on a hill, overlooking a vast plain of white grasses beneath a swollen purple moon. The dark, low trees dripped with roses, blooming bright and blood red against the green. Beneath them, a lone figure kept silent vigil.

Elissa reached for her swords, startled and mistrusting the sudden change of what was familiar, but her weapons were gone, her battle gear replaced by a plain white tunic. At her movement, the dark figure turned its gaze on her, pinning her in place. She could see nothing of his features but a pair of impossibly blue eyes, deep and ageless as the sea itself, shining like beacons in the depths of shadow.

His voice was cool and rich, drifting to her from the darkness on a swell of regret. "Savior," it murmured. The eyes closed briefly, and Elissa could hear his sigh on the wind, a sound of utter despair. When the blue eyes opened again, they were clouded with a sorrow so deep it overflowed into the air and sky, and without really understanding tears sprang to her eyes. "Why?"

Inexplicable guilt tore at her, gnawing and filled with shame, but the eyes closed again, and mercifully stayed that way. The presence was gone, and she was looking down at Kern, sitting quietly in the surreal setting with an air of mild surprise. He looked up at her curiously, his small brow furrowed in concentration.

"Wake up!"

She bolted upright, drenched in sweat and heaving. Her blankets were tangled and damp, twisted around her limbs, and Elissa shoved them away irritably, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the small tent. The soft light of morning bathed her in a purplish glow, clear and clean as the fresh breeze soaking in through the canvas from outside. She breathed it in deeply, trying to shake of the remnants of the vision. She ran a shaking hand through her limp hair, and was startled to feel tears on her face. Quickly, she wiped them away, wary of letting anyone see her in this state, at a loss at how she would possibly be able to explain it.

She could hear the hum of the familiar sounds of a stirring camp outside took her time in braiding her hair and washing her face, shielding herself with mundane, everyday tasks until she felt steady enough to go outside.

Alistair's eyes lit up immediately when she emerged, reminding her of the innocent Chantry boy he had been once upon a time, always eager to see her first thing in the morning, back before they had started sharing a sleeping space. For a moment she had to struggle not to throw herself at him, to assure herself that he was really okay—the usual side effect following the first part of her dream.

He tossed her a teasing smile from where he sat near the morning fire with Daniel. "You're up early."

She nodded, forcing out a smile for her son. "I don't sleep as late without four walls and a roof over my head," she said, but apparently, it came out less convincing than she had intended. Alistair's expression faltered as he slid over to make room for her on the blanket.

He reached over to gently tussle Daniel's curls, still wild from sleep. "Go tell Alina to take you and Kern to the steam to wash up," he said, still watching Elissa. Daniel sighed with the frustration of a child who knows that he's being sent somewhere else so that the grown-ups can talk, but he got up to do as he was told.

Before he did, Elissa caught him, hugging him tightly against her. "Did you eat already?"

He nodded, then said excitedly, "Da's going to let us stay here today. He said we could go swim in the lake later."

Alistair chuckled ruefully at her raised eyebrow. "I thought you were on my side, kid." He sighed in some amusement, giving Daniel's back a little nudge. "Go on. Go get cleaned up before you get me in more trouble."

"Do you really want to lose an entire day of travel?" she asked as Daniel ran over to his nurse. Alistair had quite shamelessly stolen the elven woman right out from under Leliana's nose, leading to rounds of scolding and hastily reasoned excuses, but Elissa had to admit, it was nice having someone competent to help her with all the regular tasks Daniel required.

He shrugged, smiling as he watched the boy chatter away excitedly. "We're not in such a rush, and the kids are tired. There's no reason to kill ourselves." He looked back over at her. "And stop trying to change the subject."

"I didn't know we had started one."

He leaned back, braced on his hands, quietly releasing a soft breath. "How bad was it?"

She started, unsure of what he was asking. "What?"

He stretched his long legs out in front of him, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening before asking quietly, "You really think I don't know about your nightmares? The thrashing around and whimpering are kind of a dead giveaway, Elissa."

"Oh." She rubbed her eyes with the pads of her fingers. She should have known it would be too much to ask that he hadn't noticed. "It wasn't really bad, just… disturbing."

He regarded her seriously, his eyes filled with concern. "Nightmare or vision?"

She rubbed harder, fighting back a twinge of mild hysteria at desperately not wanting to think about it just yet. "I don't really know. I can't… I haven't ever had one like it before." _And yet, nothing has terrified me like that in a long time, either. Nothing has left me this shaken in years._

_Alistair, I don't think we've got the first idea of what we've really done._

The words burned in her throat; lodged in place and unable to spill over. Elissa had never been exceptionally good at pouring her heart out to anyone, and that included him. Her mind and humor, yes. Her temper, most definitely. But when it came time to shed fears and anxieties, to declare anything truly important, her mouth remained stubbornly closed. Telling Alistair that she loved him the first time had been a difficult, slightly horrifying step—she had yet to do it again.

She felt his hand on the back of her neck, soothing the tension there, and she took a deep breath, fighting to regain control and handle it with common sense. "I think it was a vision," she said at last, dropping her hands to rest on her knees. "I don't know yet. Whatever it was, I haven't the faintest idea what it was trying to tell me."

She was being more vague than usual. It had only made sense, during the Blight, to communicate the different dreams they were experiencing, to determine if they were simple meaningless terror or something more. Kern's involvement forestalled her from doing it now. Alistair was just beginning to get to know the boy, had only recently started to risk taking on his harridan mother to find out more about him. Not to mention, he had very, very good reason to get a little defensive if Elissa started spouting accusations with no solid foundation behind them.

Somehow, she didn't think simply telling him that his other son was really beginning to creep her out would go over very well.

A slight narrowing of the eyes told her that he had noticed the evasion, but he didn't comment on it, instead saying, "You look exhausted."

"I guess I am." She took the opportunity to lean against his shoulder and feel him solid and whole and not a bloody, broken mess. For a moment she just stayed like that, his arm around her and gently running his fingers up and down her arm, but before too long another sensation gripped her—this one more familiar.

She glanced up to see Kern running across the campsite to join Daniel and Alina.

Alistair immediately noticed her detection of the boy and frowned slightly, glancing back and forth between them worriedly. "You can't still sense him, can you?"

"Nooo," she answered slowly, trying to figure out a way to describe the sensation. "The song is gone, like Morrigan promised. But, it's almost like I can feel where it should be." She shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense at all, does it?"

The frown deepened. "All I know is it sounds like the Grey Wardens and the darkspawn will still feel something wrong with him."

She quickly shook her head. "It's not like before. I only feel it when he's near. We just have to be sure to keep him hidden."

Which was far, far easier said than done. She suddenly felt more exhausted than before.

Alistair's arm tightened around her, drawing her back against him. "We'll figure it out, Elissa. I promise. We'll get through this."

She rested her head back on his shoulder, nodding in agreement to make him feel better.

But for the first time, she wasn't so sure.

… … …

This entire farce was becoming insufferable.

If it were not enough for Morrigan to have to withstand the knowledge that she had sought this out, had been forced to swallow a lifetime's worth of honed, hard-earned, snarling pride to reach out for help, the invariable reminder that she was here of her own design burned in her mind at each one of the distrustful glances she received while in this crowded, noisy camp. Each one of the guards stationed to watch her, each servant that trailed along behind Alistair, practically begging to see to his every whim, each sulking, resentful look that Elissa cast her way—she had seen nothing that begged for utter destruction quite as glaringly as did this gathering.

Humiliation enough that she had been reduced to this. A weakened being, a mere shadow of herself, trying in vain to recapture the power that had once flowed so effortlessly, welling up within her in a shining, pulsing beam of raw energy. Morrigan glared at her hands in frustration, willing them to be what they once were, but they remained stubbornly resilient to her demands, displaying only a pathetic whisper of the spells she drew upon. Since Kern's birth, her magic had been as erratic as a stormy sea, swelling and ferocious one moment, only to recede to harmless glass the next.

With a sound of aggravation Morrigan got to her feet, rubbing eyes that burned from exertion and frustration—certainly not from anything else—and went in search of her son. It had been some time since she had hesitantly given him permission to play with Daniel, and though having a child that could not be harmed by anything under the gods' sky called for minimal diligence, the lunch hour was nearing.

She had only just ventured into the trees when she heard the noise. Shouting, splashing—and above the din, she heard Kern yell, "Watch me take this one, Daniel!"

Horrified, she stalked towards the sound. The boys were gamboling in the shallows of the lake, taking turns at tackling Alistair and Aeryc, both waist deep in the clear water. She watched as Alistair laughed and tossed Kern into the air, and the child shrieked with laughter, barely recognizable as her solemn, thoughtful child. She had never before seen him thus.

It stung.

"Kern!" she snapped, and her voice was sharper than she had intended, brittle and fierce at the same time. "Stop this nonsense. Go back to the camp. Your food is growing cold."

Alistair set the boy down with a sigh and lowered his head, and she read the words he muttered to Kern as clearly as though she had heard them.

"Go do what your mother says."

The child nodded and waded up out of the water. A foreign emotion began to swirl within her breast, tumultuous and uncomfortable, making her fingers clench as she watched her son glance back and smile at the foolish, golden boy who had given him to her.

She honed it into anger.

How _dare_ he! As if she needed his assistance, his _approval_, when dealing with her own child. She bit the inside of her mouth to hold back the spell that burned on her tongue and willed herself to calm down, reminding herself that he and his affections were a necessary instrument, for now.

'Twould not always be so.

Alistair was looking at her, the hard gleam in his eyes promising that they would certainly be having words about this as he rose out of the lake and pushed his hair out of his face, his dark breeches hanging low on his hips. She raised her chin in challenge, stealing a moment to simply watch him as he stalked toward her without betraying herself by word or stance. There was no denying that the wretch was at least pleasing to look upon, even if he did have the intelligence of a pot of gruel, and Morrigan had never shied from admiring fine male bodies, particularly when they were presented to her so brazenly.

The fault with Alistair was that he always began talking.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked in an undertone, though the children were long out of earshot. She crossed her arms defiantly, meeting his glare.

"'Twas most necessary. You would have him indulging in witless humor and glutting himself on cheese, given your way. Had I wanted your influence pressed upon him, Alistair, I would have requested it from the start."

She expected him to grow angry, to storm off in a huff as he was so often wont to do when she threw their agreement in his face, but instead he only sighed, watching as Kern scrambled back to camp. When he looked back at her, his clear hazel eyes were pleading something she didn't completely understand. "He's just a kid, Morrigan."

His quiet retort caught her off balance. She had suspected that Alistair would take to the child, given his simple nature, but even she had been surprised by his insistence and dogged determination after seeing him, by the guilt that drove him to seek them out again and again, no matter how she tried to drive him away. It unnerved her, unequipped as she was to deal with it.

"He is a _vessel_," she said, correcting him. "The form of childhood is but an illusion."

His eyes narrowed in the first sign of anger. "Really? Is the part where he's actually enjoying himself for a change an illusion as well?"

The artless dig delved deeper than it should have, deeper even than he had likely intended it to, with this newfound knowledge that Alistair had revealed a side of her son she had not seen before. Having very little knowledge of things like frolic and play, she had done only what she could to mold and shape and even care for him, unaware that he perhaps craved something more.

It was infuriating.

"He humors you, Alistair." Her voice was cold and she was suddenly desperate for him to be gone, lashing out in a way that was sure to raise his ire. "He knows your mind and shows you only what you wish to see. He has no more need for your attentions then I do."

Alistair only shook his head at her, a look of disgust clear in his expression, showing her exactly how much he was willing to believe that. "I'm not fighting with you in front of him anymore. You want to go a couple of rounds, it can wait until tonight. But I think it's about time you just face up to the idea I'm not going to continue to sit back and pretend he doesn't exist."

She snarled at him, all thoughts of control forgotten. "He's _mine_!"

"Maybe you should have considered that before you came crawling back for our help." He scooped up his shirt and stalked back to camp.

Morrigan fought to bring herself back under control, her hands trembling and her nerves screeching hatred.

It was to be expected then, when the quiet voice caught her unawares.

"You could give him a chance."

She turned her seething glare on the quiet Grey Warden. He was leaning casually against a tree, just far away enough to be of no notice. His chest was bare, revealing the lean, hard muscles across his chest and stomach as well as numerous scars that testified to his warrior's life, but Morrigan did not fear his skill with a sword or even his templar abilities as much as she did his unassuming presence. Elissa, smart and practical and more observant than any other woman Morrigan had ever known, would have realized his real value immediately.

The true danger that surrounded Aeryc was that you never expected him to _be_ there.

"What concern is it of yours?" She rubbed her gritty eyes. "Are you now yet another champion of that insufferable fool?"

"I was thinking more about the fact that you seem to make things harder on yourself than they need to be."

Morrigan laughed, high and utterly without humor. "You have no understanding of me, Templar. Do not pretend to."

"No, but I do see that you're struggling," he said softly. "You've got more fight in you than any woman I've ever known. And yet you lash out at the only people who are willing to help you. Your trying existence that lies so far beyond my realm of understanding seems to include a group of companions that still haven't tossed you out of their lives and a man who wants only to care for his son, no matter the cost." He shook his head and draped his shirt over his shoulder. "Truly, my heart bleeds for you."

… … …

Zevran sighed almost immediately when he emerged from the tent and caught sight of Alistair lounging beside the fire, sharpening a dagger while Aiden dozed at his side. He had hoped that whatever foul mood Alistair had fallen into would result in his hiding away in his tent for the evening, rather than out here in the open. Out here, his presence would most assuredly distract Elissa, and such did not fit well into the assassin's plans.

He muttered a few choice swear words in Antivan. Always the complication, this man.

Zevran took a seat beside the fire, idly twisting his earring as he glanced around, making a quick note of the camp, keen to find something that would effectively run the boy off for an hour or so. He spotted Morrigan at the far end of camp, her arms crossed so tightly it seemed she might fold in on herself with the smallest nudge, and decided that as far as things that annoyed Alistair went, anything that had to do with Morrigan was generally a safe bet.

"Our witch seems particularly hostile tonight," he said casually, watching carefully for Alistair's reaction.

It was both swift and easily recognizable. He scowled darkly, grinding the stone against the edge of his dagger hard enough to leave scratches. "I'm not going to try to talk to her, Zevran."

Ah, so there was guilt there. Zevran didn't know what had transpired between the templar and the witch this time, and did not especially care. It was a situation easily enough manipulated, in the right hands.

"I was only making idle conversation, my friend," he said. "As for me, I personally revel in this sort of tension. It would not truly seem like our little group of friends without it, no?"

Alistair frowned, still concentrating on his work. "There's no getting through to her," he muttered, more to himself than to the elf. "I officially give up."

They were fighting over the boy again. No real surprise there. "I am sure that is the wisest choice." Zevran nodded sympathetically. "After all, Kern is likely to grow accustomed to the fact that his parents cannot be within ten feet of each other sooner or later."

"Mind your own damn business."

Zevran sighed, twisting his earring with a bit more force, irritated that Alistair was not cooperating. Without warning the clasp broke open and the jewelry slipped out of his grasp, tumbling over the shoulder of his cloak. To his astonishment, Alistair snapped a hand out and caught it before it fell into the dirt.

"A fine catch," he said, allowing a fraction of his admiration to show in his voice. "One might almost begin to think you possessed some amount of skill that required something more than brutish strength and minimal thinking."

Alistair scowled at him. "I have my moments." He flicked it back to him with his thumb and went back to sharpening his dagger. "Aren't you a little too male for that thing?" he asked, and then shook his head. "Scratch that. Stupid question."

"Ah, but among my people, it is most common for both men and women to sport such baubles. You might consider it yourself, Alistair. You would look quite dashing, I think. You have already taken the plunge with the amulet you wear. Why not attempt something more interesting?"

Alistair stopped in mid-swipe and looked at him in some exasperation. "What exactly is it going to take for you to leave me alone?"

Zevran clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment. "No appreciation for the finer arts, as I see. It is a long sought after custom, where I am from, the art of making the smallest and most delicate jewelry, and one that is wrought in sensuality. Oh, the stories I could tell you, my friend."

"You're just making stuff up now, aren't you?"

"Not at all. In Antiva, it is most common for women to adorn their bodies with a number intriguing little clasps and cuffs. I once knew a woman who wore the most charming little golden ring right on her—"

Alistair abruptly dropped the dagger and put his hands up in surrender. "Maker's breath, you _win_. I'm _going_."

… … …

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The witch's dagger-filled gaze hadn't broken even a little—she hadn't so much as blinked the entire time he was walking towards her. He certainly didn't expect her to start now. "No."

He shoved a hand through his hair, mentally cursing that stupid Antivan for goading him into this. "Fine. I'll talk. You sit and glower." He crouched down in front of her, making sure he had a clear view of her face. He didn't put it past Morrigan to start hurling spells at him before this was done. "Look, I don't really like you. And given our history, I don't think you're very torn up about it," he said, shuddering a little when her eyes narrowed into slits on him. "Buuut… we can't keep staying at each other's throats like this."

"Agreed. Now go away."

"Morrigan—" He stopped himself from making a nasty retort and hauled in a breath, determined to keep his temper. "Why can't we just figure this out?"

"Because I have nothing to say to you."

"Whether or not you approve of the situation doesn't really matter. I'm here now."

"How very convenient."

His mood darkened further. "Don't even try it. Leaving was entirely your idea, and one you were pretty adamant about." He frowned and settled down, sitting on the grass in front of her. "I never would have made you leave. Not after…" He sighed. "I never would have made you leave."

She blinked, her scowl faltering for the first time before it was replaced with mocking disdain. "And what would you have had preferred? That I stayed as part of your harem? A figure for your personal amusement?"

He shuddered for real at that idea. "That 'you had sex with me' weapon you keep brandishing? It's going to get really old really fast."

"And I grow weary of this clinging," she snapped, finally out of witty comebacks and what little patience in enduring this encounter she had attempted. "We had an arrangement, one in which you were made fully aware and agreed to. I am so sorry if you somehow twisted that into dreams of a happy little family. I, however, intend to keep our agreement."

He laughed bleakly. "Oh yes, that would have been lovely. Until one of us killed the other." He sighed again. "I don't fantasize about whatever this is being more than it is—a disturbingly bad situation, but…" He ducked his head slightly, determined to meet the gaze that was focused somewhere around his shoulder, "He's my son."

She remained silent, looking away, and Alistair pressed on, sensing an advantage. "He's a beautiful little boy, you know."

"I am aware that he favors me."

He laughed beneath his breath, quietly enough that she wouldn't hear him. "You could have come to me. I'm not promising for certain that I wouldn't have mocked you mercilessly, but I _can_ promise I would have protected him. I would have kept him safe."

"I knew…" She stopped and cleared her throat. "I knew you would not allow anything to happen to him. 'Twas that which drew me here." Her shoulders squared as she once again donned the mantle of callous witch, though for the first time, Alistair saw through it. "You are pathetically predictable in you affections."

"If you knew that, then why do you have to be such a harridan about letting me see him?"

"I didn't say I was pleased with the notion."

He shook his head to hide a smile and bent his leg up, letting his arm rest across his knee. "He kind of likes me, you know."

She snorted. "'Tis no wonder, really. You are at the same stage in maturity."

"Whatever works, I say."

She rolled her eyes. "Have your way then, Alistair. I've no interest in witnessing any more of your tantrums."

"For now?"

"For now."

"You realize we're going to fight about that later."

It was hard to tell in the failing light, but he could have sworn she was almost smiling. "I've no doubt of it, Templar."

He smiled, but the sound of voices interrupted whatever he was about to say. Elissa was approaching alongside Zevran, laughing at something the Antivan had said. She stopped and handed Morrigan a heavy grey cloak that Alistair recognized as one of Daniel's. "For Kern. The mornings in Highever are damp and can get cold, this near the ocean."

"I… thank you."

Elissa replied with a distracted nod and went back to Zevran, chattering as they headed down to the river. For one unguarded moment, Alistair saw the whisper of longing Morrigan's golden eyes as she watched the two friends, remorse for something forever lost.

She shook it off just as rapidly, getting to her feet with the cloak draped over her arm in search of her son.

Alistair sighed and let his head drop back. He really, really wished he hadn't seen that.


	25. Gone

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_Gone_

.

_I don't want to know the price I'm going to pay for dreaming_

_Now that your dream has come true_

_~Michael Bolton_

_._

_._

By his own design, Alistair was stuck trying, for the first time, to put his toddler sons to bed without the help of Alina or Elissa. Though the elven woman had hesitantly tried to warn him that the boys were a bit of a handful when it came to settling down, made worse when they had each other to play off of, Alistair shrugged her off, figuring that if anyone was an expert at stalling and deflecting, it was him, and so he would be able to handle anything they threw at him.

He was wrong.

First came the demands; sleep would be impossible without first getting something to drink, finding the stuffed bunny that had somehow gotten packed at the very bottom of Elissa's satchel, the blanket that was customary. Next came the questions—and endless stream of questions that had no logical answer, leaving Alistair to think that Ferelden had been doing it wrong for centuries—if they really needed someone in the castle who could talk people in circles, they'd be better served crowning his four-year-old now. "Where does the river go to after it comes here? Why is it in such a hurry?" "Do you think the horses get tired of carrying all our stuff for us?"

That one completely blew his mind.

Finally, exhaustion began to settle in. Daniel's eyes became droopy and cloudy, and Kern curled up, nearly asleep beside him. With a yawn, Alistair started to get up, but as he leaned over to tuck the blanket more securely around them, Kern reached up a hand and touched the amulet that hung around Alistair's neck, one finger tracing the still-visible cracks that ran through the worn sacred flame, and looked at him questioningly.

"It was my mother's," he said quietly. "I… uh… broke it when I was a kid. Not very smart of me, was it?"

"What happened to your mum?"

"She died, when I was a baby. But when I wear this, it reminds me she's still here. Sometimes we need to remember those things. Now go to sleep."

He crawled out of the tent a moment later, stretching to ease the growing crick in his back from sitting so long in so cramped a space. A glance at the stars told him that it wasn't very late yet, but already the rest of the camp was quiet and still, long shadows stretching from the light of the fire across the small clearing. The odd light made the grass and leaves look unusually sharp, each blade and edge casting its own individual shadow under the bright light of the swollen full moon. He idly glanced around the night sky, looking for some sign of Morrigan returning or circling the area—a sign he watched for each night as an indication that something unusual was going on in the area. But the raven was nowhere to be seen, and the forest was slumbering peacefully around him.

He didn't see Aeryc until he nearly walked right into him. The warrior was lounging beside the fire, just outside of Elissa's tent, his legs folded and his hands resting on his ankles, doing apparently nothing other than thinking.

"Maker's breath," Alistair muttered once his pulse slowed. "I swear you're worse than Zevran."

"My apologies, Your Majesty," he said with a small smile. "Have you seen Elissa?"

"She's off with the assassin somewhere, being all sneaky and stealthy or whatever those two get up to when they run off." He sighed and settled down beside the fire. "Is there something I can help with?"

"No. Well, yes. I'd wanted to talk to her about Morrigan."

"Ha! You're on your own, then." Despite the joviality, Alistair felt distinctly uncomfortable. "I like my face the way it is."

"Elissa's being unusually hard on her. It concerns me," Aeryc said. "Morrigan did nothing worse than Zevran or I did to her, and yet she seems determined to punish her for all eternity for it."

Alistair sighed, a little discomfited that it had become noticeable enough to draw Aeryc's concern. Elissa was being a bit—well, _bitchy_—where Morrigan was concerned. He didn't particularly blame her, but seeing as how she had spent the first night in camp trying to get a feel for Zevran's character after he had tried to _kill_ her, it did seem out of place. "I agree, but it doesn't make Elissa less right about her," he warned, a little nervous at the undue amount of interest Aeryc seemed to be taking in the sultry witch. "Don't get sucked in, Aeryc—she's trouble. More than you can imagine."

"Perhaps, but at the same time, there's something inherently natural about her," he said thoughtfully. "Like rain. Or wind."

"Or a tornado," Alistair said.

... … …

Elissa was able to keep pace with Zevran to the top of the ridge, though admittedly slower and clumsier than she would have liked. She had always admired the way Zevran moved, purposeful and deadly as a dark god in the shadows of the trees. Even now, when he was apparently at ease, laughing quietly beneath his breath at their broken bits of conversation while he easily maneuvered light steps over roots and rocks, he gave every indication of being alert, coiled and ready for anything. Elissa was no stranger to the ways of the assassin, accustomed to using her surroundings and light feet to her advantage more often than not, but beside him she still felt like a child imitating its parents' movements.

The trees ended with no real warning to reveal a strip of land at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the entirety of the forest. A full, purple moon hung low in the horizon, bathing the scene in a soft light and sparkling across the meandering stream, which cut through the dark patch below with the glittering light of a thousand stars.

"Did you find this?" she asked a little breathlessly, sinking down on the soft grass beside him. He nodded, flashing her a smile in the dim light.

"As I scouted today. I rather thought you would appreciate it, _bella_."

For a long time she said nothing, admiring the view. It had been so long since they were able to just sit there, and Elissa rested her head on his shoulder, glorying in the simple feel of being with a friend. She'd missed him, she thought, in the chaos of the spring and all the changes it brought.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked at length, unaccustomed to long stretches of silences from Zevran, who nearly shared Alistair's unrelenting propensity for chatter. He had been too quiet over the past few days, making her wonder if something was preying on his mind. The thought came with a stab of guilt, as she realized just how distracted she had been.

"Bonds." He slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"Bonds?" She smiled to herself. "As in connections, or just something I'd rather not know about involving my rope and a saucy tavern wench?"

He laughed. "Ah, my dear, though there have been admittedly a number of times that I found myself grateful for the oddities that you carry, it would not be nearly as amusing if I told you everything I have done with possessions of yours." He laughed harder when she hit him. "But no, I was reflecting on the nature of people, rather, and the bonds that shape them. It has been most interesting to note, these past months."

"It's been strange." She linked her fingers and stretching her arms over her head, trying to ease the kinks that were forming in her back from sleeping on the ground again. "I'm sorry if I've seemed distracted. I haven't been a very good friend to you recently."

He smiled. "I think we can make an exception, given the circumstances. You have the right to take some time and worry about yourself on occasion, you realize. Never has the demand for that been as disturbingly vocal as it has since we left Orzammar."

"But you're my best friend. I tell you everything."

"Oh, I am not either. I believe the templar still holds that title as well, though I do appreciate being a close second. That he managed to gain the additional privilege of seeing you naked on occasion really only gives me that much more reason to dislike him."

Elissa chuckled softly. "You two are going to have to get used to each other eventually."

"Perhaps," he answered, his voice very soft. The abrupt change of tone made Elissa wary, and she tilted her head to look up at him. Zevran noticed her regard and tilted his head in an imitation of a shrug. "Do not lie to yourself, Elissa. I am a selfish, selfish man. Sharing you has been a severe test of my convictions."

"It hasn't been just the two of us in a very long time."

"Yes, but even you cannot believe that having Aeryc and Jaedan there to assist me in keeping you out of trouble is the same thing."

She didn't have an answer ready for him, and so just snuggled closer to him, welcoming his warmth against the cool of the evening.

"Such a wide world," he murmured, almost to himself, gesturing out at the spectacular view with one hand while the other slid around her waist. "Strange. The more of it we see, the wider it seems to get, no?"

"It does." She smiled softly. "I'm glad you've been with me."

He nodded slowly. "And that is my tie. My bond. Forged of something that I did not believe in, before meeting you." He sighed, a melancholy sound that Elissa had never heard from him before. "I am indeed a selfish man."

She sat up, looking at him a little suspiciously. "What are you talking about, Zevran?"

He laughed, so quietly Elissa would not have heard it had she not seen it. "You can smooth your fur and sheath the claws. I assure you, my dear, should I try to seduce you, you would not have to _ask_."

She thought she might be blushing, and was grateful for the dim light. "I didn't mean—"

"No, it is quite all right. Truly, my unusual approach in not trying to get you into my bed these years has been surprising even to myself. But I fear I know you too well, Elissa. You protect your heart with a ferocity that has put me in my place most thoroughly." He shrugged. "Jaedan was content with waiting for those odd moments you remembered he was there. I would not have been nearly as generous."

Elissa flinched, and Zevran winced at the sight and sighed to himself. "My apologies. I did not intend for that to sound as harsh as it did."

"You're right, though."

"Mhm, but I think perhaps you punish yourself overly much for it. He was happy, you understand. Both of you were of a like mind, more concerned with being Grey Wardens and friends than lovers, and willing to… ah… 'take the edge off' on occasion, so to speak. He never resented you for it." He turned, looking her in the eye. "It was his choice to save you rather than himself that day, Elissa. He was ever the hero of the tale. But I do not think his intention was for you to feel guilty over it for the rest of your life." He shook his head, murmuring. "It's a cursed power you wield, to make men willing to lay down their lives for you. Some would call it a gift. I think that you know better, though."

She looked down, studying her hands. "And yet I don't seem to have the power to make them do something as simple as stay."

Zevran clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "That is self-preservation, I fear. It would take a special kind of fool to fall for you, my friend, when it has been clear all these years that only one man shares your heart, whether or not he shares your life." His gaze wandered over her face, something she had never seen before lurking in the deepest part of his gaze before he looked away with a sigh. "I am not such a fool."

"Good thing, too," she said, striving for casual but falling short of it. "Turns out I'm quite the handful."

He laughed. "I have known that to be so for many a long year now," he said with his usual humor, before lowering his head kissing her gently on the lips, soft and chaste. "You have been the only family I have ever known, dearest heart. Never could I hope to repay you for that."

They sat in silence after that, listening to the symphony of the night, the moon bright and heavy above them as she glided on, unseeing, in her endless cycle of death and rebirth.

When Elissa woke early the next morning, the small golden earring she'd seen her assassin wear every day of his life was placed lovingly in the cup of her hand.

But Zevran was gone.

… … …

It was mid-morning by the time Elissa managed to stumble out of her tent. She fervently hoped that her eyes weren't as wild and swollen as they felt, stinging with unshed tears and exhaustion, but Alistair was next to the fire, involved in an argument with Morrigan, and too wrapped up in it to notice her haggard appearance.

"Why have you suddenly deemed it acceptable to only call him Boy?"

"Because Kern is _stupid_. Why didn't you just go ahead and name him Corn while you were at it?"

"And Boy is so clever? Perhaps I should take to only calling you Idiot."

"And that would be different how?"

"Kernunnos is a _strong_ name, taken from—"

"I know where it's from!"

Elissa determined that they were likely just bickering for the lack of anything better to do and set about gathering her things, grateful for the excuse to keep her back to them. The dispute reduced to buzzing in her ears, melting in with the rest of the sounds from the camp as the large group packed up and readied to leave. She felt strangely numb, as though she were watching the activity from another place entirely, and she idly wondered if her constant nightmares were slowly dragging her into the Fade even when she was awake.

The thought should have been terrifying. She couldn't quite summon the energy for that, though.

"Elissa." Aeryc's quiet voice brought her back to her surroundings, making her feel abruptly heavier, brought back to flesh from some state of spirit. "Did Zevran go scouting?"

Her eyes burned, but remained stubbornly dry, aching and hot. "No. He went home."

She heard Alistair hiss at Morrigan by way of telling her to shut up.

"He went—" Aeryc blinked. "To Vigil's Keep?"

"To Antiva." She rubbed her gritty eyes with the back of her hand impatiently, almost wishing she _could_ cry to ease the discomfort there. Elissa didn't have to look to know that all eyes were suddenly on her, and she yanked the straps to her pack hard enough that the canvas burned her hand. "He's not coming back."

Silence.

"We should get going," Aeryc said at length, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'll go fetch the boys." She felt more than she saw Aeryc and Morrigan drift away. Alistair approached her cautiously, hovering behind her for a long time, shifting with uncertainty.

"Elissa, I…"

"I just want to get on the road." She squeezed her eyes shut, her throat tight and throbbing from swallowing back a snarl she knew he didn't really deserve. "Preferably now."

"I can do that," he said quietly, hesitant.

_It's not your fault he's gone_. Part of Elissa wanted to tell him, to assure him, but the words remained stubbornly unsaid. She was drowning, it was too much all at once, and she needed to shift through the tangle of her insides before she could handle this rationally. She needed time.

"Mama!" Daniel's shrill voice cut through the silence that swelled and thickened between them. "Zevran's inks and brushes and stuff were in my tent when I woke up. I didn't take them again, I swear!"

She wasn't going to be able to keep this up much longer. "I think he was giving them to you, baby," she said quietly.

Alistair dropped to one knee in front of the child, speaking in a low voice. "Daniel, go tell Aeryc you're riding with me today. I need to tell you something, okay?"

Daniel hurried off, thrilled at the prospect of being at the front of the crowd with his father, and Elissa blinked rapidly, swallowing, a genuine stirring of affection for Alistair making it a bit easier to breathe than it had been a moment before. "Thank you."

He nodded slowly and opened his mouth to say something, but at the last moment he just shook his head and jammed his hands in his pockets. He wandered off in the direction of the caravan. Elissa watched him go. Misery finally welled in her eyes, spilling over in sheer frustration at herself and Zevran and the whole truth she had been trying to avoid.

_I knew he was thinking of leaving. I knew I would have to choose eventually_.

She shook her head with a growl of impatience and determinedly scrubbed her eyes dry, slinging her pack over her shoulder before stalking over to her horse, Aiden whining worriedly as he trotted along at her side.

… … …

Elissa retired early that evening, tired of the way everyone seemed determined to watch her like she was some sort of frost bomb that threatened to go off at the slightest nudge. Alistair in particular seemed to be going out of his way to handle her with care, as though she were some sort of invalid or simpleton. She hated it when he did that, especially when she could see him biting back his normal replies. She would have preferred that he offer something witty or playful or even caustic, rather than treading on pins and needles around her.

As she lay down, exhausted by the compounding stress, she knew that going to sleep would be risky. Her mind was clamoring in a thousand different directions, refusing to settle down or find anything that resembled peaceful. Memories and dreams and regrets all swirled around behind her eyes in flashes and images, dragging her further and further down as she faded off to sleep.

Exposed and vulnerable, Elissa tumbled headlong into the dream that waited for her.

_Beauty._

_The blue eyes fill her vision, looking down at her from across the worlds as a whispered memory of what once was. He is beauty, it swells and blooms around him, lingers on his every breath until the stars themselves weep in envy. A brush of his presence awakens the heart of the poet, guides the hands of the painter, awakens the burning need in every sculptor to fill and create and transform. He exists in the folds of the rose, in the depths of the sea, in the melting gaze of a first love, powerful and frightening and wonderful all at once._

_There in the darkness, there is only sleep, and his dreams are broken and disjointed, but still he remembers. He remembers painting the sunsets and dancing in the light of the newly formed moon. Timeless. Immortal. Unchanging._

_And then, they come._

_His soul shudders at their evil, at the twisted taint that they carry, bearing down on him, those who once knelt at his image and worshipped his greatness. He feels the darkness crawling, burning through his mind like a thousand knives and no matter how he fights, it overcomes and overwhelms, devouring him._

_There is no more beauty. There is only rage, and hate, and hunger. Kill. Feed. Burn the Maker's world to a cinder and slash his helpless creations. Let them drown in blood, let their screams and anguish reach the Maker's ears. Leave nothing. Let creation itself fall into shadow._

_A flash of Flemeth, poring over ancient books, learning and building and planning. Foolish mortal. Powerful, yes. Ancient and dangerous and more than human, but a mortal still. Just a child, one who reaches for the flames because it thinks they're pretty. She sees so little._

_He can feel the Wardens as they hunt him, their Taint calling out louder than all the others across the rooftop. They are coming for him. The Archdemon knows, without knowing how, that they carry the power to destroy him._

_The Wardens burst free of the plague of darkspawn like a beacon. Their souls shine brightly in the sea of black, human and whole and untouched by the Taint that pulses through them, a light that snakes into the spirit of the Archdemon, and awakens Urthemiel._

_He remembers, then. He remembers… beauty._

_The dragon fights, but Urthemiel is rising, reaching for this one chance to be free, to destroy the horror he has become. The secret that is hidden even from the Grey Wardens, that lives on in the murmurs of the immortal. The Wardens are but tools, weapons in the hands of the Old Ones, a way out of the crawling death and filth and evil. They enable him to destroy himself, rather than live on in this shell he has become._

_She comes for him like a beacon, bearing a simple sword against him like an ancient goddess, brave and fearless. His end. His savior._

_Release me._

_At the bite of her weapon he can feel himself start to fade, to dissolve into nothingness. The power chokes him, dragging him down, down. He can feel the fleshy form that closes in around him, burns him as his soul is reforged, changing and losing and shrinking, his power dispersed into the endlessness of the cosmos._

_And then there is only stillness, and the warm, quiet prison of the womb._

_The witch found the means, he knows, though she understood none of it. Trap the soul, the thoughts and gauzy memories of what once was. Not the god. So little power. His greatness is lost, bound by rules of a human world and reduced to the worldly trickle of the immortal that the mages call 'magic.'_

_That gods would be bound by such rules._

_Foolish, foolish mortal._

_He who was Urthemiel is no more._

_A ghost of a child, playing with wooden blocks in the field of roses, happily oblivious. "He knows only what the shadows whisper, broken memories and glimpses," a voice murmurs. "He has done nothing."_

_Elissa is breathless and shaking, and she can feel the presence gather behind her, but she is frightened to turn and look._

"_His innocence is hunted. They know. Redeem yourself. Protect him."_

_The presence vanishes, and only Kern is in his place, sitting quietly in the roses before he looks up at her with pleading eyes. He lifts his hands, shackled and helpless, and Elissa steps back in horror when she sees the blood running down his small arms. "They're coming."_

Elissa woke with a start, audibly gasping as she bolted upright, scrambling back in sheer instinct at the shadowed form that hovered near the tent opening before her mind could comprehend who she was seeing.

"Easy," Alistair said quietly, reaching out a hand and resting it on her leg in some concern. "It was hard to wake you up from that one."

She sat up, rubbing her aching eyes. "Ye gods," she said, trying to slow the frantic stammer of her heart. The dream lingered, vivid and detailed, refusing to fade like her other nightmares. Less terrifying, maybe, but she suddenly felt very small and foolish and dirty. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and pushed her hair back, still trembling. "What time is it?"

"I have no idea. Close to midnight, I think. I heard you thrashing around."

"Oh." She wiped her eyes again. "Vision. Definitely a vision."

"What about?" He ducked further into the tent to stretch out beside her. He only shrugged when Elissa raised an eyebrow at him. "Extenuating circumstances," he said, draping his arm around her waist. "Besides, I doubt anyone really cares all that much." He paused, propped up on one elbow to look down at her, suddenly unsure. "Unless… you'd rather be alone?"

"No," she said quickly, one hand darting up to his arm as if to hold it there. "No, stay with me." She curled up next to him, new perspective bringing to light the way she'd behaved towards him throughout the day. "I'm sorry if I took Zevran leaving out on you. I just… I always thought he would be here. It was selfish of me, to never even consider he would eventually want his own life, instead of tagging along behind me in mine." She sighed. "I guess I'm not handling it very well."

He made a small noise of disbelief. "If that was you taking it out on me, you _have_ mellowed out some."

She smiled faintly. "I don't know what I'm going to do without him. You might have to deal with further bouts of sulking and snapping until I get it figured out."

"Hmm, you know, I may be proving that I'm a glutton for punishment by saying this, but I would rather deal with that then let you do that suffering in silence thing you're so annoyingly fond of." He pulled her closer and kissed her brow. "I'm still here, Elissa. I don't want to be anywhere else."

… … …

Kern seemed to be waiting for her in the morning, loitering beside the campfire while Daniel trailed along behind Fergus, excited to be nearing the end of the journey and Highever. Fergus smiled patiently as he answered the flood of questions, eager himself to take Daniel riding and begin getting him familiar with the lands surrounding the castle. Elissa had already conceded a day or two spent with the herds and down in the village, acknowledging that it was high time to start training Daniel to rule, whether it be from Highever or Denerim.

She sat down cross-legged in front of the other little boy, and decided it was time for some plain talk. "I wanted to ask you about Urthemiel," she said.

The child eyes regarded her solemnly, a flicker of recognition giving way to sadness. "He's gone."

"I know. But he still comes to me."

Kern shrugged and looked away. "He comes to me, too. I don't know where he is now."

She should have known that he would understand very little of what was happening to him. He really was only a little boy. "Kern," she said slowly, "I made a promise, last night. I won't let them find you. I don't want you to be afraid anymore."

He looked at her, his head tilted to the side. "My mum says you're too smart for them."

Elissa laughed. "Your mother is a smart lady herself. You can trust her." She reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of the golden eyes. "You've got to stay out of my dreams, though, little one. You can't keep taking them from me."

He frowned, his small brow furrowed in confusion.

"I know they're not happy," she said. "But, they sometimes tell me things, things I need to know. You understand that, don't you?"

He nodded, his eyes watching her solemnly. "But sometimes they're just scary."

"Oh, I know. But you won't always be there to wake me up." She reached up and touched the golden earring she wore, smiling sadly. "Sometimes, we just need to learn to get by on our own."


	26. Seeing Red

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_**Seeing Red**_

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_Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano_

_~ Eminem_

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"Don't you think you've been spending an awful lot of time with Morrigan recently?"

Alistair turned his glare on the quietly asked question after Morrigan stalked away, and immediately forced his expression to soften when he saw Wynne, looking vaguely troubled. She was sitting on a blanket outside of her tent, carefully unpacking herbs she had gathered along the way to allow them to dry beside the fire.

Alistair laughed. "'Spending time with?' That…that…." His brain struggled to come up with an appropriate word that would sum up just what Morrigan was, and he was left sputtering in frustration. "She attacks me at every turn! It doesn't matter what I'm doing, it's wrong. I swear she writes every little thing that could possibly irritate her down just so she can rip into me after he goes to sleep."

The worry in Wynne's eyes increased. "It never concerned you before. I remember just how adept you became at ignoring her insults after enough time."

He sighed. "It was different before."

Wynne remained quiet at that, her hands moving delicately over the precious plants. She was intelligent enough to have realized just whose son Kern was by this point, though she still didn't know all the details. Alistair and Elissa had agreed to take the secret to their respective graves if need be, and looking at Wynne's thin frame, he didn't think he could have told her, regardless. She was getting old, his mage, and he had no intention of burdening her further with knowledge of his sin. Alistair had long ago decided he owed her at least that much—to care for her and make sure she was comfortable in her last years, even if it did have to be behind the façade of playing "court mage."

Still, he didn't think he would ever be able to forget the look of lingering disappointment she had given him when he made the shame-faced confession in light of her inquiries about the child. He only hoped she thought Kern was the result of some drunken night of bitter loneliness after he and Elissa had separated.

It was certainly preferable to the blood-magic soaked truth.

"How are things going between you and Elissa?"

He gawked at the abrupt, somewhat disturbing change in subject. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for Wynne to believe he had somehow fallen to Morrigan's charms once. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Good, even. Really good. I mean, she's not fawning all over me and declaring undying devotion, but we're making progress." He sat beside her, idly toying with a leaf on one of the plants until she smacked his hand away. The familiar orneriness brought a smile to his lips. "Why do you ask?"

"You two have been through so much already," she replied, her cloudy blue eyes lost in thought. "I'd hate to see more strain put on something that is still very fragile. I just thought it might help to warn you. Elissa is more vulnerable then she lets on, especially where you're concerned. She always has been. And, she has good reason to be a touch irrational when it comes to…certain things."

Alistair frowned. "Wynne, whatever it is that you're thinking, I can promise you that my only interest in Morrigan is trying to get her to leave me alone. It would be the best relationship that could ever spring up between us, really."

"Oh, I know that. I haven't gone completely senile yet. But I think perhaps you should consider telling that to Elissa."

He laughed at the very notion of Elissa getting upset over a woman he barely tolerated. "Oh come on, Wynne. She knows. Elissa isn't stupid."

Wynne shook her head and gave him the kind of I-can't-believe-I-have-to-explain-this-to-you look that Leliana had branded him with more than once during the Blight and his first awkward months trying to get Elissa to notice him. "Alistair, sometimes it's less about _knowing_ and more about hearing the other person _say_ it."

… … …

It was early the following morning that the rider approached, galloping towards the still-waking camp. As messengers were constantly riding in from Redcliffe, Denerim and Highever, no one paid particular attention to the lone horsemen. Within a short while, though, Alistair was able to make out a cloud of reddish gold locks flowing behind her, and immediately ran out to meet her.

Leliana dismounted with a little eye roll. She had once again donned the leathers he was so used to seeing her in, and her bow was hung over her shoulder. "You have made yourselves quite easy to track," she scolded lightly, reaching out to clasp his wrist with a little curtsy in lieu of a hug with the number of people watching them. "You've left a path even the darkspawn could think well enough to follow."

He didn't respond right away, still too surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Starving, actually. I did not really want to go through the canyon pass all by myself and so had to skip my breakfast to ensure I caught up to you. Oooh—are those strawberry tarts?"

"Leliana, you just got married."

"I am aware of this. I was there, you see." She gave him a small smile. "Alistair, tell me—had you married Elissa, would you have demanded that she stay home when it was clear that her friends needed her?" He couldn't answer that and still hold onto his argument, and she nodded knowingly. "Rest assured, Your Majesty. Teagan knows who I am. And furthermore, there is a very proper and courtly reason for me to join you. A crowd awaits you at Highever Castle, we are told, all of them curious to see the boy you wish to have named as your heir. As the arlessa of Redcliffe, it is my duty to be present to lend our voice."

"But still—wait, what? What kind of crowd?"

She laughed. "One that is sure to make you gnash your teeth in that endearing manner you have."

He stepped back and eyed her pointedly. "Is it the kind of crowd that requires armor and that hide-piercer of yours?"

Leliana shrugged non-committedly. "I prepare for all circumstances. Now come. I am still quite hungry."

… … …

"I see the giggling duo rides together again. How…charming."

Elissa closed her eyes and dragged in a breath at the sound of Morrigan's voice. All joy at having found Leliana in camp that morning was fading under the sheer weight of her irritation. Morrigan had seemed even testier today than usual, making snide comments whenever Elissa was in earshot, and it was taking more and more of Elissa's effort to ignore her. She squinted against the afternoon sun and looked up at the witch, who was standing with her arms crossed, scowling down at them.

"Did you want something?"

"The templar wished for me to tell you that we will be staying here for the remainder of the day. Alistair wants to send scouts ahead into the canyon before we attempt to transverse it."

Elissa rolled her eyes and turned back to Leliana, forcefully trying to ignore the twinge in her gut at Morrigan's casual use of Alistair's name rather than a slur. "I think his get up and go when it comes to long distance travel seems to have got up and went." She smiled. "He's stalled this trip more than once already."

Leliana shrugged one graceful shoulder. "He has much more to consider now, no? These people are all under his care and his protection. It is not like the old days, when the two of you could run ahead and yell at the rest of us to keep up."

"Until one of them stumbled back to us, bleeding from some vital area of their bodies. We were certainly useful enough then."

Elissa sighed and looked up again to see Morrigan looking even more annoyed than before. "You're in a mood today," she said through her teeth with a wide, fake smile.

Morrigan gave her one of her infuriating, condescending smirks. "Curious indeed."

Elissa slowly got to her feet, feeling her temper rising. It had been churning under the surface for days, between the nightmares and lack of sleep and Zevran's disappearance, and the witch was shaping up to be the perfect target for it. "If you've got something to say, then just say it."

"And be witness to more of your petulant sulking? I suffer enough of that from the boy you are so very quick to hate me over."

She could feel her hands shaking as she stared down this woman who had once called her sister. "Do you really think this is just because you were with Alistair?" She kept her voice low to avoid the attention of the camp as well as to disguise its unsteadiness. Her hands clenched into fists until she could feel the nails cut into the flesh of her palms at words left unsaid for too long, left churning and festering until it seemed they spewed from her like vomit. "I defended you! I _trusted_ you! And they were right about you all along! You were just using us! You took what you wanted from me and left."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed, disguising a twinge of something that Elissa was too angry to recognize. "And you blame me for your foolishness? 'Tis no fault of mine if you are so easily manipulated by a few pretty words of friendship, Warden."

Leliana leapt to her feet, her blue eyes blazing. "How could you even say that? She's done everything—_everything_—to keep you and your son safe, and you're still just as nasty as always!"

Elissa dragged Leliana back before the punches could start flying. Leliana had long ago run out of sympathy for Morrigan. "Just leave it. She's not worth the trouble."

Morrigan's eyes smoldered. "He could have me again, should he wish it," she murmured as she turned to move smoothly away. "I had no idea you were hoarding such a delightful tumble. Perhaps when he tires of _you_ again…"

With a childish screech, Elissa shoved Leliana out of the way and launched herself at Morrigan.

The two went over in a heap, rolling through the foliage. All at once Elissa wasn't the Hero of Ferelden or the Arlessa of Amaranthine or even the Commander of the Grey—she was a pissed off, jealous woman, and all her combat training and discipline abandoned her utterly under the burning desire to claw the witch's stupid yellow eyes out. She sat up, straddling the other woman's stomach and got a solid punch in before Morrigan yanked her down by her hair and they were rolling again, pummeling each other with every dirty trick they knew, nails and teeth and elbows all balling up as they scrambled in the dirt.

"Hey! Break it up!"

Elissa heard the shouting and footsteps pounding in their direction, but she didn't let up until an arm like a steel band caught her around the waist and forcibly pulled her off of the witch. She kicked and squirmed, but Alistair was too strong, and he hauled her back despite her shrieking protests. The swamp hag was just as furious as she was, fighting to free herself from Aeryc's grip as he held her arms from behind. Apparently Darren and Thomas had arrived there first, and managed to keep Leliana back and out of trouble.

"Alistair!" Elissa raged, struggling and squirming. "Let me go!"

"Not a chance," he said, tightening his hold on her and dragging her back. "Get those other two out of here!" Blast it, he hadn't gotten softer at all over the years. She cursed every ounce of his stupid strength as he lifted her by the waist and carried her away from camp, ignoring her efforts to get free. He stopped at the edge of a pond, putting himself bodily between Elissa and the others while he wrestled to hold her back. "Elissa! Maker's breath, calm down for a second—"

"I'm tired of being calm! There's no _calm_ here! You—_you_—she—" She couldn't seem to make her mouth work and instead tried to shove past him, but he caught her around the waist and dragged her back in front of him.

"Liss…"

"No! That fetid bitch _stabbed me in the back_! I'll _kill_ her."

He sighed and shook his head before shrugging and shoving her backwards into the pond.

She shrieked and started to scramble back up, but he followed her in and put a firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down and sending her stumbling deeper into the water. "You stay here and cool off."

Elissa didn't answer, just crossed her arms and sulked, heaving in angry, strangled breaths and blinking back hot moisture that stung at her eyes in contrast with the cold water. Alistair shook his head and waded towards her, lifting her chin to tilt her head to the side before she jerked away from his touch.

"She got in a few scratches that managed to draw blood, it seems." He was trying not to laugh at her, the wretch. "Of all the ways I expected for that to blow up, a cat fight had to be at the very bottom of the list."

Elissa glared at him, still struggling to blink back tears that were more of an aftereffect of her rage than any real distress. "I'm glad you think this is so funny."

"Oh come on, Liss. I just had the privilege of witnessing two of Ferelden's fiercest pulling each other's hair while an arlessa of no minor importance tried very hard to leap into the fray. How am I not supposed to find that funny?"

"She said—"

"Nothing worse than she's said before, I'm sure."

She sniffed, angrily wiping her eyes with the cuff of her shirt that covered heel of her hand, wincing at the raw scratches on her face. She didn't look at him. "Whatever."

His brow furrowed worriedly at the gesture, suddenly not as amused as he had been. "Wow. She really got to you, didn't she?"

"No."

"Right." He ducked his head to see her face better, his concern increasing when he spotted the tears gathering in her eyes. "You realize that when you start crying, it changes my entire outlook. You can go back and fuck her up it makes you feel better."

"Just—don't!" she all but snarled, falling back into deeper water when he reached for her. "She…she knew what that would do to me. She knew, better than anyone, how much I…when you and I…and…" She was crying now, hating herself for it but unable to stop. "She wasn't even sorry! She didn't even act like she cared. She looked like a spider when she told me about it, just _waiting_." She sniffed loudly. "And now I've got to deal with you defending her. _You_! The head of the 'Morrigan Sucks' movement! Suddenly you're best friends?"

Before she could stammer any further, he leaned in and kissed her. It was a like a balm, a wave of cool reassurance that spread over the heat of her anger. She clung to him blindly, pressed up against the warmth of his body in the chill water, his strong arms holding her against him.

"I am hopelessly in love with you," he said softly when she mustered the will to pull away. He reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You realize that, don't you?"

She nodded weakly, not able to meet his eyes, and used both hands to push her wet hair back from her face. "She was supposed to be my friend."

He sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, Elissa, I think you need to consider that Morrigan just isn't good at that sort of thing. She always relied on your guidance in that relationship. I don't think she's quite known what to do since she came back."

Elissa thought about that, before giving a small, quiet laugh of sheer self-disgust and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes, sniffling. "I don't know why I let her get to me like that."

"It's kind of a perverse gift she has."

She smiled weakly. "When did you get so smart, anyway?"

He grinned. "Last Tuesday. It was rather startling."

Elissa looked down at her wet clothes and sighed. "I'm beginning to feel a little silly now."

Alistair laughed brightly, pulling her closer. "Well, at least it stands to reason that Daniel will know how to throw a decent punch when he needs to."

Elissa's misery increased several times over. "Oh, no! He didn't see that, did he?"

"No. They're both still taking a nap. But I think you two scared the guts out of my poor guards. Aeryc and I were the only ones brave enough to jump into the middle of that scrap."

She gave him a watery chuckle. "That's probably a good thing, just in case you'd had to disrupt her casting."

"I _did_."

She blinked. "Oh."

He smiled and lifted her chin, looking at her softly. "I'd be furious, but I don't think she was trying to hurt you as much as try to knock you off of her. You were definitely coming out ahead for a while there."

"Maker, I must have looked like a total fool." She groaned while he continued to laugh quietly at her. "Okay, I've calmed down. Can I come out of this _very cold_ water now?"

Alistair gave her a wry smile. "That's not actually why I tossed you in here."

"What, then?"

"That was poison ivy we pulled you out of."

Elissa just stared at him, her mouth hanging open, before she finally slapped her hands down on the water's surface in total frustration. "_Fuck_!"

… … …

Thomas shook his head as he dabbed more of the purplish, smelly cream on Elissa's face. "You'll have to leave this on until tonight, but it should clear right up."

Elissa sighed under his administrations, squirming as she waited impatiently for the salve to do its work and ease her discomfort. Wynne sat in a corner, quietly advising Thomas on the amount of mixture to apply.

"I didn't realize you had officially begun training Thomas," Elissa said, mostly to get her mind off of the burning rash spreading across her skin.

Wynne smiled, well pleased with her new apprentice. "He's quite capable, and it seems like a waste for everything I have learned by tending Grey Warden to die with me. Thomas will be a powerful healer for you one day." She gave Elissa a gently amused look. "Of course, this is the first time in my experience that one of you has been attacked by a plant."

Thomas stood up straighter, using his brush to give the mixture a quick stir inside the small clay bowl. "Nasty stuff, poison ivy. It's quite easy to recognize…"

Elissa frowned. "Are you actually giving me a lecture in herbalism, now?"

"Lovely as you are, Commander, I'd rather not have to apply salve to your backside ever again. Especially with the king standing right outside. Very awkward. So, if teaching you will avoid a similar situation…"

"Maker's _pants_! I know what poison ivy looks like!"

"And _yet_."

Elissa glared at him. "One more smart word out of you and I'll have Alistair smite you just for my own amusement."

"I think, Commander, that it might be worth it."

Wynne laughed quietly in her corner.

The salve began doing its work within a few moments, and Elissa sulked quietly outside of her tent, feeling more pathetic with each passing moment. Alistair was stretched out on the grass with her, his head rested in her lap while he read—probably a strategy on his part, to be able to hold her back in case she should try to get into another fist fight.

"Oh, my poor Elissa." Leliana grinned, though honesty sympathy lit her eyes as she sat down in front of them. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay—I got my ass kicked again," she grumbled, making Alistair shake with silent mirth.

He sat up and leaned over to kiss the one part of her cheek not covered in purple. "I'm taking the boys down to wash up. So if you wanted a chance to make nice with our witch, now would be good."

Elissa rolled her eyes at him. "Why is this suddenly so important to you?"

"Because we both know you're going to forgive her anyway and end up hating yourself for being mean later. Because you're currently covered in goop that frankly _reeks_, and I have to sit here and pretend that it doesn't." He reached up and brushed her cheek. "Because I hate to see you so unhappy. Take your pick."

"Fine."

He got to his feet. "Keep an eye on her, will you, Leliana? I hear she bites."

Elissa muttered something foul beneath her breath, but it only made him laugh.

… … …

Morrigan was in just as poor a shape as Elissa, covered in Thomas' remedy and sporting a brilliant black eye. She only assumed the witch was still recovering from whatever Aeryc had been forced to do to keep her from blowing Elissa up with a thought, and thus unable to heal herself.

"I won't apologize. I did what I was sent to do," she said immediately when she saw Elissa. Her back was rigidly straight, staring straight ahead into the distance.

Elissa sighed and sat down next to her. "I know you won't."

There was a heavy, pressing silence, before Morrigan cleared her throat hesitantly. "However, I do feel… I should not have said those things earlier. Any of them."

"No, you shouldn't have," Elissa replied, before her own shoulders fell dejectedly. "But I shouldn't have said what I did. And…I probably shouldn't have hit you, either."

Morrigan looked away. "I took no pleasure in hurting you." She swallowed. "Not today, and not…then."

Elissa toyed with the ends of her hair. "You could have said so." Morrigan looked back at her, her gaze so familiar with its questioning, a hidden longing to understand, that Elissa felt a small stirring of affection for her. "Just once," she explained quietly. "You could have acted like you were sorry, even if you couldn't say it." She shook her head and looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. "You could have said that you shouldn't have left."

Morrigan crossed her arms. "It seems I am still a little…out of form… when it comes to friendship."

"I know that, too." Elissa sighed and ran a hand through her hair before lifting her head, and asking in a more normal tone of voice, "Have you ever considered squeezing out a few tears once in a while? Just so it wouldn't be so easy for people like me to turn you into a scapegoat for generally sucky situations?"

Morrigan slid an exasperated look out of the corner of her eyes. "You smell like a privy."

"So do you."

"Hmph."

She began to laugh. Unwillingly, though she tried to choke the sound off, Morrigan did the same.

"Your healer seemed quite distressed when I took off my shirt for him," she said, a real smile curving the corner of her mouth.

Elissa chuckled. "Not as much as when he had to smear that goop on my ass."

They were both still laughing when Aeryc returned with the dinner catch.


	27. Homecoming

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

_**Homecoming**_

_._

_Time is going by so much faster that I_

_I'm starting to regret not spending all of it with you_

_~ Nickelback_

_._

.

The forest gave way to hills, rocky crags and crevices that were ideal for bandits, and then the dreaded canyon pass. The day passed in silence, everyone on high alert as they watched the terrain carefully, looking for any sign of ambush or attack. The children felt the tension in the adults and sat solemnly in the back of the cart, wide-eyed and nervous.

Morrigan walked along the side of the cart, having refused on numerous occasions to attempt to ride a horse, even when she was too drained to try to summon her raven form. On occasion, she tolerated Aeryc enough to allow him to pull her up to ride in front of him, but the Grey Warden was riding the dangerous rear guard with Captain Maryn through the pass.

She had just shifted back later that afternoon, clearly already exhausted, and Alistair shook his head at her sheer stubbornness, noticing the slight hobble in her step. He would have to talk to Elissa about replacing the mage's soft soled shoes with something more practical. Nudging his horse to amble alongside her, he leaned over to talk to her as they moved deeper into the canyon.

"Morrigan, I need you to ride with the boys. I want you with them in case anything happens."

She scowled at him, but he received nothing more hostile than that. Despite his real purpose behind asking, it was true that having at least one of the more powerful companions with the children would set his mind at ease to some degree, and the truth of that showed through enough that she didn't bother to argue. She lightly scrambled up without answering him, allowing Kern to curl up at her side, his head resting on her knee. With a nod of thanks Alistair rode to the head of the line, where Elissa and Thomas took the point.

"You're supposed to stay in the middle," Elissa said without much conviction, her eyes carefully watching the surrounding rocks. He didn't answer, and she didn't press the issue further.

The remainder of the day passed without incident, but still they pushed on until evening before finally agreeing to make camp. The guard was doubled for the night watch, though Alistair was beginning to think they might just come out of the pass with no trouble.

The King's Own and a small army of Grey Wardens didn't exactly scream for an easy target.

It was getting late before Elissa joined him. Elissa's rank may have allowed her to share his fire, and the journey was casual enough that protocol could be ignored for the most part, but still, it was impossible to get a private word together until the camp was settling down for the night, simply because of the number of people. They often would stay up later than the others just to steal those moments alone, and so that Alistair could slip in and sleep beside her without notice.

"You look antsy," he said as she settled down beside him, carrying a hairbrush while she set to braiding her hair for the night.

"I'm just not used to not having a shift on the watch," she said with a crooked smile. "I keep thinking I'll have to get up. It makes it hard to sleep."

"You get used to it a lot faster than you'd think." He grinned. "It's one of the things I have to admit I don't really miss from the old days."

She shrugged and concentrated on getting a particularly difficult tangle out of her hair. "What were you thinking about, sitting all alone in the dark?"

"Work, actually. I was thinking that with the rebuilding in the bannorn finally finishing up and the alienage on its way into being integrated, I'm going to need something else keeping me up at night, and this pass might as well be it." He looked up thoughtfully. "I wonder what it would take to station guard posts along this road?"

Elissa considered the question with a tilt of her head, examining the ends of her hair with a small frown. "I think it would be worth the expense. The bandits get more bloodthirsty every year, my brother tells me, and the merchant guilds might actually thank you for a tax increase if it meant less gold spent on guards."

"The problem isn't cost, so much, as finding the men to take the position." He rubbed his chin—he hadn't gotten the opportunity to shave properly since leaving Redcliffe and the stubble was beginning to itch. "This blasted pass is outside of both Highever and West Hill borders, so it falls to Denerim."

"But it affects Fergus' trade. It's in his interest to help you maintain it, and he has the men to spare. I'm sure some sort of pact arrangement could be made."

"True enough. If I send a couple of Denerim knights to command at each post, it might do the trick."

"That's all you should need, truly. The king's men and king's crest hold enough weight to make the bandits more wary then they have been."

"I knew there was a reason I keep doing this."

She laughed and flipped her hair back behind her shoulder, where it tumbled in soft waves to the small of her back, almost as long as it had been before she had been forced to cut it during the Blight. "I thought you had a project of some significance underway to keep you occupied as it was. Didn't I hear a rumor about you trying to educate the whole of Ferelden?"

He glanced at her, unsure of her tone, but she was smiling at him with a quiet sort of pride that made him look away, blushing. "That's still in the planning stages, and is turning out to be a monumental undertaking. I don't know how successful I'll be."

"Have you considered using the Chantry?"

He looked at her again. "What?"

"The Chantry. They're located in every town and village you could want, and you already know they boast impressive libraries as well as separate buildings where they educate the templars. And, if you follow through with the idea of using the mages as the actual instructors, you'll still have most of the control over the curriculum being taught. I know you've been trying for a long time to get the Chantry to loosen its grip on the Circle. This will at least begin getting the mages out of the Tower, and the Chantry is more likely to concede willingly if they can still keep their eye on them. It's a first step, anyway."

"That's…" He blinked. "That's brilliant, actually. I feel like I should be writing this down."

She shrugged again with a small smile. "I'll be in Denerim soon enough to remind you."

"I don't know if 'soon enough' is the term I would use," he said sourly, suddenly disgruntled by the reminder that she planned to leave him eventually for an entire year.

She looked at him sadly. "Alistair, I do have some responsibility to the Grey Wardens." She sighed, resting her chin in her palm. "I've been thinking, though, that it would be better if I let Daniel go with you right away." Her voice was calm, valiantly trying to hide how much the idea pained her. "It's easier for me to travel than it is for you."

"This is stupid." He waved off her immediate glare. "I mean it. Even if Aeryc joins you in Denerim, he's more than capable of running the keep until a replacement for both of you is ready. And regardless of my very personal motivations, I do _need_ you in Denerim, Elissa. These back and forth messages we've been exchanging just aren't right for the Order. The Warden Commander was always meant to reside in the compound there. The way we've been handling it leaves me to speak for the Wardens, and that just looks… bad. He can join you later. The whole point of having a second is so you don't have to do everything yourself."

"He's got a point, Liss," Aeryc called drowsily from the tent next to hers.

Elissa glowered at the dark canvas while Alistair laughed beneath his breath. "No one asked you."

Alistair sobered and lowered his voice a few notches. "I don't want Daniel to be separated from either of us for that length of time, and neither do you. And I really want you in Denerim. As soon as humanly possible. So why are we doing this?"

She looked down at her hands, thinking. "What were you hoping for, then?" she asked quietly. "That I be there by winter?"

He gave her an uncertain grin. "I was thinking more in terms of I'll have your things waiting for you at the compound when we get back?"

She sighed and shook her head, quiet for a long time. At length she got up, twisting her hair into a knot at the back of her head. "I'm… going to bed." She turned and glanced pointedly over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"

He smiled widely, trying hard to keep from whooping aloud as he got up to crawl in behind her. "I knew I could wear you down eventually."

… … …

Either luck was with them, or the Ferelden bandits had gained some measure of intelligence, and agreed with Alistair's assessment that this particular group was better left alone. By late morning the canyon opened up, revealing the flat, grassy plains of Highever.

Elissa threw her head back with a laugh at the sight and kicked her horse into a gallop, racing ahead of the slower moving carts with her braid whipping in the wind behind her. Beside him, Fergus laughed beneath his breath. "She does that every time she comes home."

Alistair smiled, noting the minor detail with some interest, as it was something about Elissa he actually hadn't known before. It had just occurred to him that no matter how often he had heard Elissa speak of her home, or how many times he had found himself there over the course of the years, he had never once been here _with_ her. The thought was a little sobering: just another realization to things that could have and _should_ have happened had they both not been so adept at making themselves miserable.

Well, he was here now. Dwelling on the rest was pointless. Raising an eyebrow at Captain Maryn, who groaned when he recognized the look, he tore out after her.

The castle came into view by noon, sitting high on the cliffs that captured the edge of the Waking Sea in crashing, sparkling waves.

He had been to Highever only a few times before, and then only briefly to approve the rebuilding. The surrounding areas had suffered only an insufferable tax hike after the castle was taken, and since what he really needed were stone and wood and the people to work it, Fergus' first act as teyrn had been to reinstitute the practice of allowing the masons and craftsmen of Highever to pay their taxes in goods and services for the recovery. He quickly set about ridding the castle of any sign of Howe's occupation, which included returning the obscene amount of gold and silver Howe had scraped off the top while standing as Arl of Denerim. Denerim was more need of it than Highever, he said, though Alistair suspected the real reason for such honesty was his hatred, which ran deep enough not to allow for anything of Howe's to be a part of Highever. Given the circumstances, Alistair was more than willing to pretend he didn't know Fergus had kept at least a small portion of it for one reason only—to fund the demolition of the larder and family quarters in the castle.

A messenger rode out to meet Fergus as the party stopped to get cleaned up in a nearby stream and gave him a hasty warning that visitors from various parts of the bannorn as well as the Waking Sea and Dragon's Peak had all descended on his home in the two weeks it had taken them to travel to Highever. Apparently the rulers of Ferelden couldn't wait until their king returned to Denerim to begin discussing the changes taking place in the bloodline.

"Alfstanna is here," Fergus informed Elissa and Leliana, who both smiled brightly at the news. "Elissa, I know you came for the Order, but Alistair may very well need your help with this. Seeing you two together will strengthen his case. Do you have to go hunting for this cave right away?"

She chewed her lip in thought. "My only concern is leaving a cave leading to the Deeproads somewhere in Highever. Just because we haven't had any trouble doesn't mean they don't still know it's there. The darkspawn have been known before to lie apparently dormant before emerging again."

"The same thought had occurred to me. Believe me, brat, I'm even less fond of the idea of those monsters in my teyrnir then you are. I'm only asking that you stay behind for a time. Aeryc and the witch can take your men to locate it and watch it before you make your move, can't they?" He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "In all honesty, my place is to be beside you when you go, anyway, and I won't be able to right away."

Elissa nodded, though Alistair could see it was unwillingly. "Very well. Morrigan can lead Aeryc there tomorrow. But I'll only stay for a day or two, Fergus. I'm still Warden Commander, at least until you two manage to wrench the title away from me and hand it over to Aeryc. I still have a job to do."

Alistair winced when she walked away with Leliana hurrying behind her, aware they had probably deserved that little dig. Fergus saw it and shook his head at him. "She'll get used to it."

"She's right, you know. I've been pushing her to step down since I found out about Daniel, after I was the one who made her take the position in the first place. I feel like a hypocrite."

"That was Elissa's own doing, in keeping him from you. She should never have held the position for this long. It's high time she realized she's the mother of a boy who should be the crown prince of Ferelden and accept what that entails. I'm sure she was more than ready to remind you of your responsibility when she needed to."

Despite his words, Fergus looked guilty. He shrugged it off with a shake of his head and glanced at Alistair. "I should probably warn His Majesty that Arl Royce is also in attendance."

Alistair groaned, already exhausted by the news of a crowded castle. "Tell me his daughter isn't here."

Fergus made some attempt to hide his amusement. "You might see it as an opportunity to get a feel for Royce's intentions at the next Landsmeet, Your Majesty. Of all the arls, Royce is the most likely to speak out against Daniel, seeing how desperately he wants his own daughter in that seat next to you. A little strategic charisma wouldn't be amiss."

He was right, of course, but Alistair glared at him anyway. "Have you ever had to spend any amount of time trying not to offend Lyra's father while fighting off her advances?"

Fergus only laughed. "Who hasn't? You're just the poor sod who happens to come with a crown."

… … …

After arriving, Elissa and Alistair almost immediately escaped the crowd that greeted them and snuck upstairs to try to steal a couple hours of sleep before the formal supper that would be held in the great hall that evening. Although it was not officially a celebration, Alistair knew that the nobles had gathered specifically to speak to him, and Fergus was providing them the opportunity by hosting the gathering his first night there.

He devoutly hoped the rest would be more normal affairs, since those were trying enough.

He slept like a rock, worn out more than he cared to admit from the long journey. When he blinked awake much later in the afternoon, Elissa was already sitting at the vanity, brushing out her thick mane of black hair. He irritably wondered if she had slept at all. He knew that her rest had been broken and scarce for some time, but he was beginning to suspect that it wasn't from the overly active mind he had been blaming it on. Instead, Elissa seemed to be _avoiding_ going to sleep.

He sat up to harass her about it, but was suddenly drawn up short. She was wearing a deep blue gown of rich design that made her eyes look like a cross between the sky and the sea. He had never once in his entire life seen Elissa use the cosmetics that Leliana and even Morrigan seemed to think were a vital part of daily existence, and she wore them sparsely now, but her face had been transformed from beautiful to stunning, accented by thick, sooty eyelashes and full, pouty lips.

He was frankly gaping at her. "You look amazing."

"Thank you." She smiled distractedly, winding up the mass of hair to tuck into a delicately crocheted, beaded net that rested at the nape of her neck. "Fergus prefers that I spend my time in Highever as Elissa Cousland rather than Warden Commander, and it seems more important than usual that I look the part tonight." She sighed. "Though I'd much rather hide up here with Morrigan and Aeryc."

He frowned and finished getting out of bed, stretching his arms over his head. "Don't you think Aeryc's spending an awful lot of time with that woman?"

She shrugged. "He's keeping an eye on her for me, and besides, she seems to tolerate him well enough."

"Keeping an eye on her, huh? Right. I'm sure that's all he's doing."

Apparently, the same thought had already occurred to Elissa, because she closed her eyes briefly before fixing his reflection in the mirror with an accusing look. "Alistair, Aeryc is like my brother. I really don't want the mental image of him seducing Morrigan forever planted in my brain. Besides, it's none of our business."

"Fine. Don't come crying to me when she eats him alive." He bent down and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "So… do I get to go downstairs with you on my arm, my lady?"

She turned her head to look at him, a little surprised. "Are you sure you want to?"

He smiled. "Do I want to let everyone know that I was somehow lucky enough to end up here with the most beautiful woman alive? Absolutely."

… … …

Elissa was aware of the muttering occurring behind her back as she entered the great hall that evening. Alistair had to wait outside the room for his formal entrance, which seemed a little daunting to her, even more than usual. No matter how much he had changed, he was still just Alistair when they were alone or on the road, and the reminder that he was now as far above her station as she had once been to the surrounding people in the room always felt awkward and unfamiliar. It was worse now, facing the result of being involved with him in front of a hall full of nobles.

The muttering appeared to be more curious then hostile in nature, so she did her best to ignore it, welcoming some of the women she had known since childhood and hadn't seen for some time. Elissa was relieved to find them friendly and polite, greeting her with that familiar balance of talking to an old friend and a teyrn's daughter, rather than looking down on her. Though she had seen many of them in her time as Warden Commander, she had been careful to make informal visits, rather than subject herself to open scrutiny after Daniel was born.

At least, _most_ of them treated her respectfully.

Elissa had been familiar with Lyra before the Blight and all the changes it brought. Her memories of the younger girl were of a spoiled, golden-haired child that had visited Highever with her father. Once during the visit she had actually sat down in the muck of the yard, kicking and screaming and refusing to budge after being told that she couldn't have the mabari puppy she wanted, since Aiden had chosen Elissa.

She didn't seem to have changed much since then.

When Alistair returned to her side, Lyra was trailing right behind him. He had barely leaned over to whisper something to Elissa when they were interrupted by a giggle. "Your Majesty! It's been ever so long," Lyra said in a simpering tone, offering Alistair one slender, perfectly manicured hand.

Elissa's fists curled self-consciously to disguise her own worn, calloused fingers and chipped nails, hiding them in the folds of her dress.

"Lady Lyra." Elissa was much appeased to see the greeting was made through his teeth. "I heard you were in Highever."

"Yes. We were planning to attend the court in Denerim, but I told Father I wouldn't hear of it, after learning you were traveling. It's so rarely we've gotten the opportunity to see each other recently. I determined that I simply had to meet you here."

"Your time might have been better spent in Denerim."

The dry comment seemed to fly right over Lyra's head. She leaned in as close as she could, pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable behavior, looking at him through heavily lidded blue eyes. "I understand Highever boasts a lovely garden. Perhaps you would like to take a walk later this eve?"

Alistair all but yanked Elissa closer, slipping his arm around her so she was pressed along his side. "I'm afraid my time here has already been spoken for."

"Warden Commander!" Lyra pretended to notice her for the first time. "Forgive me, I didn't recognize you without the bloodstains." She giggled brightly. "Are you here on some business for the Order?"

_I _live_ here. _

_Insolent slut._

Alistair quickly caught her hand, answering before she could formulate a proper response about visiting her brother that would put Lyra in her place, expressing his disapproval with the perfect amount of emphasis on each word. "_Lady_ Elissa was kind enough to accompany me here—at my request."

She half expected Lyra to sit down and start screaming again. She saw the anger flash across her perfect features before she bowed head with another giggle. Elissa had a brief image of shoving something in her mouth to block the sound. "Oh, of course, Your Majesty." She gave the other woman a smile that was anything but friendly, despite its brightness. "It's always such a pleasure to see you, Lady Elissa."

_I could snap your neck with one hand tied behind my back, you little viper_. "And you, Lady Lyra. I trust you'll enjoy your stay in Highever."

She felt Alistair relax when the younger woman swept away, accompanied by a sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry," he murmured.

"It's not like I wasn't expecting it."

"I just can't believe she spoke to you that way right in front of me."

"And it was more than sweet of you to stand up for me. Really. But Alistair, I still remember something of how to behave in this environment."

He had the decency to look chagrined, realizing his interference had suggested that he didn't believe she could. He saw she wasn't angry, though, and gave her an apologetic grin, muttering, "Okay, but even if you're not allowed to stab the things that annoy you, the rules are a bit greyer for me. Just so you know."

… … …

Alistair knew he should have recognized the man that was heading towards him. The others treated him with some deference. Over the years, Alistair had become more adept at recognizing these lords who were important to the kingdom in some way on sight, careful to remember their families as well to avoid potential insult.

Now, however, he was drawing a blank, having never once laid eyes on the man.

Elissa noticed and made a show of excusing herself from his side, muttering rapidly. "Bann Gloric. He holds the western lands nearest Orzammar. Very important to trade arrangements. His wife is Abelena. Daughter Everild."

"You're a goddess," he said just as the young woman she had labeled as Everild gave a peal of delighted laughter.

"Elissa!" She rushed forward and clasped Elissa's hands. "I haven't seen you in forever! Fergus told us you were traveling!"

"I was, for a time," she answered, her smile aimed at Alistair as she led the other woman off.

The night was certainly shaping up to be an educational one.

Of course he had known that Elissa was a noble. He even had some dim recollection of the stranger who had found him in the ruins of Ostagar, with her careful speech and refined manners. The Blight and necessity had stripped away those traits quickly, setting loose a wild spirit that had been carefully reined, not broken—the spirit Duncan had somehow seen in her from the first. Despite realizing quickly that the gentry were familiar with her, more often than not on a first name basis, Alistair had never really had the chance to see what Elissa had been like before.

It was fascinating.

The razor-sharp wit he had always admired was put to full use either charming laughter from the conversation or avoiding equally cleverly disguised questions about Alistair's plans for some matter or another. He knew that most of the people present were almost certain by now that she was his lover, no matter what kind of performance they put on for propriety. Though the more experienced and intelligent rulers accepted this arrangement and plotted accordingly, eager to win her favor, it was clear that Elissa had many friends here who were genuinely glad to see her in their social circles again.

Just when he was beginning to wonder if he had made enough of an appearance to excuse himself and drag her off to his chamber, he spotted Arl Royce, stalking through the crowd and looking furious. Elissa appeared in front of Alistair immediately, taking his hand to lead him away from the crowd.

"What happened there?" he asked in a low voice.

"There was a minor breech in etiquette," she explained quietly, careful not to say more before she could get him into a shadowed corner where they'd be less likely to be overheard. Alistair hadn't seen her looking so hesitant in some time, and dread began to build in his stomach. She took a deep breath, apparently deciding it better to get it over with. "From what I gathered, Lyra's been telling everyone who will listen how ashamed Fergus is of me, and how putting on a pretty dress and a title in front of my name still won't make me anything more than the royal whore."

"She said _what_?"

"Shhh! It's okay. Royce is handling the situation. I don't think even he expected her to have the audacity to say things about the teyrn's sister in his own home. And she's angering more people than she thinks. All in all, it could work out well for us. Royce will be eager to make amends to both you and Fergus now to avoid getting challenged to a duel."

"Make _amends_? Not good enough. Tell Fergus to back off—_I'm_ the one who gets to kill him."

"Alistair, calm down," she said, putting a hand on his chest. He hadn't even realized he had already started forward. "It's okay. You had to know something like this would happen."

"I did not!"

"Please?"

He was drawing more than one person's attention, though they were quick to look away, probably aware of what had set him off. He forced himself to look calm, still simmering. She gave him a small smile, but there was a distinct sadness in her eyes that made him feel like the most wretched human being on earth. He felt like he had thrown her to the wolves.

"You knew as well as I did that not everyone was going to be happy with this," she said. "And people have said worse to me. Use it to get the concession from Royce. It's important."

"Elissa!" Alfstanna appeared behind her and slipped her arm around her waist. "Come walk with me. Fergus promised me a tour of the gardens."

Elissa was quick to excuse herself, giving a his hand a little squeeze before going to follow Alfstanna out onto the grounds, and Leliana immediately took her place at his side. He gave the bard a pathetically grateful look that made her smile. "So, that is the young lady who has been so eager to win your attentions," Leliana said, careful to watch her wording in the crowd even though Lyra had been dragged away by her angry father. "She's quite beautiful. And she makes for the most fascinating conversation!" Leliana's eyes were snapping with hostility despite the mild tone.

Alistair's voice dropped to a mutter. "Elissa can handle herself," he said, though his insides were still twisting at the idea that she had been subjected to humiliation on his account.

Leliana lowered her own tone to nearly a whisper, though the smile remained in place for the benefit of anyone watching. "Were I another woman, I would have slipped something into her evening tea and taken great delight in watching that lovely pale skin break out in ugly red hives."

He looked at her in weary suspicion. "You didn't."

"Don't be ludicrous." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I would not stoop to such tactics and bring shame to my husband." Alistair began to relax, but she studied her fingernails altogether too blithely and added, "However, it may be best for your own conscience and reputation if you didn't speak to Morrigan this evening, Your Majesty."

Alistair started to object, and then let it go with a shrug.


	28. Lover's Walk

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

_**Lover's Walk**_

.

_I'll never know why I left you standing in the rain_

_Crying tears of emptiness_

_It's driving me insane_

_~Trixter_

.

.

"It's curious," Alfstanna said once they were away from the noise of the great hall. "When I look at His Majesty, I see a king, and one who has managed to earn my respect as well as my fealty in the short time he has held his throne. Yet once you appear, it takes nothing but a few injudicious words from a half-wit to transform him back into a Grey Warden, ready to draw steel on your behalf. It must be quite charming, to have your own knight in shining armor."

Elissa glanced sidelong at the woman beside her, but Alfstanna was smiling, having found Alistair's fit of temper more amusing than anything. Elissa gave an innocent shake of her head, though she smiled impishly back. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. I'm here strictly in an advisory capacity."

Alfstanna laughed and linked her arm through Elissa's while a couple of guards, including one of Alistair's personal entourage, followed along at a respectful distance. The night was balmy and warm, the air of the gardens heavily scented with roses. "As you say, Elissa, but I'm certain I was not the only one who saw you holding hands with him under the table, and Lyra's belongings are being packed and loaded as quickly as her father can manage at this hour of the night." She smiled as they sat down on a stone bench along the path. "I don't suppose he's bothered to propose yet?"

The question was friendly—but Alfstanna was a shrewd woman, not likely to ask anything without having some agenda. Elissa ran what she knew of the situation surrounding the Waking Sea through her mind and quickly decided the banness didn't really need anything from her, was likely just fishing for a hint on whom she should be paying court to.

She decided not to indulge her and smoothly changed the subject. "He has another, more pressing issue to worry about over the complaints that he's yet to marry."

Alfstanna nodded, not at all put off by the sidestep. "So I heard. Daniel." She looked out across the elegantly trimmed shrubs and climbing roses, thinking. "Waking Sea will stand in favor of adopting him to the line."

Elissa stared, startled at such a direct answer when she had expected much more fencing. Alfstanna only laughed beneath her breath. "I'd like to think we've become friends, Elissa. These games weary me. And frankly, there's no cause for me to vote otherwise. I know you were together during the Blight, Daniel could not look more like a Theirin, and Ferelden needs an heir. It's rather straightforward, for a change." She reached up to brush the braided strand of hair that had fallen forward back behind her ear. "But, as your friend, let me be frank with you. In this situation, you must tread very, very carefully. It looks poorly to have an unmarried king with strong ties to a woman in your position. If he grants you even one concession, the grumbling that Ferelden's monarch is in the Grey Wardens' pocket won't be far behind. You would be wise not to put him in that position."

"What would you suggest?"

"Step down," she said bluntly. "You are Ferelden's hero, and were you to serve as the Grey Wardens' voice at the Landsmeet while still living amongst the people, it would gain more sympathy than as a distant commander who happens to have sway in Denerim." While Elissa digested that, Alfstanna gave her a teasing smile. "Or, you could just marry him. Considering the half-formed fairytale you two have managed to build around yourselves, the public would be eating out of your hand."

Elissa laughed. "What an abrupt curiosity you seem to have in this, Alfstanna. I'm beginning to think you have a personal interest in the matter."

"Not at all. Decent dressmakers are hard fought over during royal functions. I merely hoped for a head start."

… … …

Elissa was drunk.

Though it was not the stumbling, slurry variety of drunk that she had experienced only once in her life thanks to Zevran and her own naivety when it came to hard liquor, she was definitely beginning to notice. The room glowed, seeming pleasantly fuzzy and very not-solid for stone, and though she had always liked Alfstanna and enjoyed her company, she was suddenly quite certain she had never been this _funny_ before, and that she had never heard her giggle just as much as Leliana as they rubbed the tears of mirth out of their eyes, occasionally earning a strange look from one of the serving girls, which only made them collapse into giggles again.

Given the number of empty wine bottles, it was possible they were a little drunk, too.

Leliana had bit her lip in some concern when Elissa returned to the table and started gulping wine like they were in danger of running out, but then poured herself a hefty glass with a little shrug, sensing her friend needed the release rather than a lecture.

Leliana was never one to allow Elissa to make a fool of herself _alone_.

The night was wearing on, and still the honor table was not empty, the men remaining enjoying tankard after tankard of mead, their laughs growing louder and more unruly with each pass the page made to refill their cups. None of them noticed the three women still sitting at the lower table, giggling like school girls for a few stolen hours while most of the castle slept.

Well, almost none of them.

Elissa had no idea how much Alistair had indulged, but he seemed sober enough, occasionally shooting her a glance and a smile. He was ready to take his leave of the hall, and had been for at least an hour. She could tell by his posture, leaning casually back in his chair with his fingers curled at his chin, one of the more recent poses she hadn't recognized at first, but had since figured out meant he was bored out of his mind and pretending not to be.

The hunger in his eyes every time he looked her way was much more familiar. It had been so long since they had been together, between her injuries and the time spent on the road, and she felt a flutter of anticipation as his glances became long, lingering looks, begging her to take herself to bed.

"You're being quite cruel to poor Alistair," Leliana said, and then caught herself, somewhat unstably. "I mean—the king. His Majesty." She sighed. "Oh, bother."

"Leliana, I think we're safe from the rules of etiquette for now." Elissa chuckled into her cup before taking another swallow. "And I am not."

"Elissa chooses to believe that everyone around her is blind," Alfstanna said with a tiny hiccup. "As if we aren't catching the backlash of his frustration. How many times has he glared at you now, Leliana?"

"Oh, at least a dozen. I do believe he thinks we are detaining her."

"Well, there is detaining someone, and then there's detaining someone, and I don't believe we're guilty of either." She stared at the bottom of her glass with a frown. "That didn't make any sense at all out loud, did it?"

Leliana and Elissa collapsed into another round of laughter.

Leliana clutched her stomach in some attempt to halt the giggles and leaned in closer. "But in all honesty, Elissa, you should probably retire. You have several things to see to tomorrow, and you will be very upset with me if I let you show up bleary-eyed and sick." She glanced again at the honor table, her smile widening. "And I think Alistair is losing his patience with subtlety."

Elissa snuck a peek at in his direction to see him watching her. He raised an eyebrow when she met his eyes, and she smothered a chuckle. "Um… I think I'm going to bed," she said slowly, but snatched up another bottle before sweeping away, much to the entertainment of the two women behind her.

He was right behind her—a little obvious of him, and she was sure she heard a rise in volume in the giggling from the far side of the hall, but Elissa found she didn't mind too much when he caught her in the dark hallway and pulled her into his arms. Almost as soon as her lips touched his, his mouth teased hers into opening up for him. Her body's reaction to his pent up passion was immediate, pressing up against him without any concern of who might stumble across them. He broke away only reluctantly, muttering against her jaw. "Have you no mercy?"

She laughed quietly. "Nope. I've been told I'm quite mercy-_less_, in fact. Merciless. Drat. You know what I mean."

"Aaaand…you're drunk, aren't you?" He leaned back marginally, somehow both wary and amused. "Wow. I didn't think you did that anymore."

"I am not! Highborn ladies don't get drunk. We get…we get…blast it, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Drunk."

She summoned as convincing a pout as she could manage, feeling as light and giddy as she was. "I had a difficult evening."

"I'm not sure this is the smartest way to handle it."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Didn't my brother tell me something about a night when he had to pour you into your chamber when he was in Denerim this spring? Should I go ask him what drove you to get so—"

"Anyway," he said, snatching the bottle from her and setting it down on a window ledge. "Leliana and Alfstanna, too, huh? I should have made sure to see that." He kissed her again. "Though," he added a little breathlessly, using his body to make her back up as he lowered his head to brush her neck with the very tips of his lips. "I think I can be forgiven for having other things on my mind."

Her back met with cool stone and his mouth silenced any retort she may have had, capturing hers with a thoroughness that took her breath away. "Liss," he gasped, and his edgy tone raised goosebumps along her skin. "Which room is closer?"

"Yours."

Later, she couldn't remember how they had gotten there or when they slipped past the guards stationed outside in the hall, but it seemed only a second later they were alone in the antechamber of the suites he had been given, pulling at each other's clothes while they stumbled towards the door to the bedroom.

"You seem…different." She laughed between kisses, shoving the leather jerkin off his shoulders the same time he shrugged out of it.

He gave her a rakish smile. "I've been sitting all night thinking that I have the most beautiful, brilliant, breathtaking woman in all of Thedas," he whispered, pinning her against the door, his hands braced on either side of her. "You have no idea how difficult it was to pretend I wanted to be there instead of closed up in here with you writhing beneath me."

Elissa gave him a slow smile, reaching behind her for the latch to the door. "And what would you think of me then, Your Majesty?" She leaned forward and tugged on his collar, backing up into the darkened chamber as she whispered, "And maybe I planned for _you_ to be the one doing the squirming."

He groaned and pushed her the rest of the way into the room.

… … …

Consciousness came unwillingly to Elissa the next morning. Her brain was sluggish and felt like it radiated a pain entirely separate from the one in her skull, and her tongue felt swollen and sticky in her mouth. Aches and pains took liberties in every joint and curve, chiding her for the misuse of her body. She tried to open her eyes, but all she saw was a blinding white light and she drew the blanket over her head to block it out. Awareness began to creep over her slowly, returning memories of the previous evening, gingerly testing here and there to see if she had done anything too stupid.

Having always been a person who slept in some form of bedclothes, one of the first things to draw her attention was that she wasn't wearing any. Or anything, for that matter. Her hair felt heavy and knotted, so she hadn't gotten around to braiding that, either. She still remembered everything, though some of the details were a little fuzzy, so she had at least exerted some self-control, apparently.

With a sigh she shoved the blankets off of her head, wincing off the fresh invasion of light. Alistair was snoring softly beside her, sleeping on his stomach with his arm thrown over the pillow. He stirred when she sat up, opening his eyes a crack before slamming them shut with a groan and rolling onto his back.

She knew exactly how he felt. "Tell me why drinking always seems like it'll fix anything?"

"I honestly don't remember," he said, full of remorse and rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "I think I was already half crocked before we even came up here." He raised his head to glance at the clothes strewn every which way across the room. "It certainly _looks_ like it was fun, though."

She arched an eyebrow at him. It was still hard to tell when he was being literal or not, no matter well she knew him. "Were you really that far gone?"

He smiled, suddenly looking as sleek and smug as a stroked cat. "No."

Elissa recalled her shameless abandon from the previous evening and looked away hurriedly, sure that he had her blushing for a change. A crumpled pile of blue on the floor beside the bed made her groan softly and she picked up her poor misused gown. The cords of the bodice had been snapped, the knot tying them dangling pathetically from one end.

Alistair made a sound of genuine disappointment and fiddled with the frayed ends. "Damn. I liked that one."

"Obviously."

He laughed softly and gently tugged at her arm, pulling her down to curl next to him. "I never had any idea what a headache those things were to get off." He slipped his arm beneath her while she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'll take you in your breeches and shirt any day of the week."

"It may be healthier for my wardrobe, truly." She yawned. "Are you going to be able to be the wildly charismatic king you need to be today?"

He laughed again. "If I ever am. I'm just feeling a little groggy, and more than one person in this castle is waking up in much worse shape than me. I've got the whole Grey Wardens not becoming easily hungover thing working to my advantage."

"I think that's more of an _Alistair_ thing. I feel like I've been reincarnated as slop."

"Awww." He rolled to his side and looked at her sympathetically, but she noted there was a distinctly wicked gleam in his eyes. "Well, you know what the best cure for a hangover is."

Despite her misery, the feel of his warm hand sliding slowly over the bare skin of her hip and ribs had the same effect it always did. She shivered pleasantly. "And what is that, exactly?"

He leaned closer, hovering over her. "I'd be more than happy to demonstrate."

The knock at the door was as effective as a splash of cold water, at least for Elissa. Alistair sighed loudly and dropped his head to her shoulder for a moment before twisting around. "Someone had better be _dead_!"

"Not to my knowledge, but it's early yet," came Wynne's unmistakably dry response. "Teyrn Varl has just arrived. One might suggest it would be prudent for His Majesty get his royal self downstairs and greet him personally."

… … …

Alistair emerged from the chamber a remarkably short time later, bathed and dressed and still somewhat annoyed with the interruption. Wynne was tapping her foot with her arms crossed over her chest, looking distinctly disapproving. She glanced over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him. "Isn't Elissa going to join you?"

"I'm trying to spare her the sight of the horde." He grinned and pushed a hand through his damp hair in some attempt to groom it. "Besides, she's…uh…not feeling too well. Let her sleep it off."

"Yes, I've already had several requests for my services this morning," she said, her eyebrows drawing together to increase the stern expression. "If Elissa needs me to tend to her, I will, but she really needs to be at your side today. After you openly presented her as your companion last night, it may seem as though something were wrong between you for her not to be there today."

Alistair waved the objection off. "It's not that important. They'll probably just assume she's still in bed, too. Besides, Daniel's case is strictly my concern for the time being, until she has a formal voice at the Landsmeet. Elissa is just here to prove we're united in this."

"Hence the dangers in letting them think something has gone wrong. She has a duty to you in this, and it's high time you stopped letting her sulk and starting seeing that she tend to it."

He frowned. "She's a _person_, too, Wynne, and one who got her pride shredded in full view of a crowded hall last night. It would be hard enough for anyone to tolerate with dignity, but for someone like Elissa, we're lucky we didn't see bloodshed. Give her a little time to lick her wounds, at least. She's not going to up and disappear on us."

She scowled, and Alistair had a sudden surge of annoyance towards her he had to rapidly tamp down. Funny that he had never noticed it before, but Wynne had a terrible habit of talking about Elissa like she was somehow a possession of the kingdom. And she wasn't the only one. Even Fergus, who openly adored Elissa and tolerated the ribbing he got about his hellcat sister very well, had been alternating between lecturing her about her duty and chiding her about her appearance since they arrived, and Elissa had already confirmed it wasn't new behavior from him. He remembered the Blight and their companions, and realized they all had some sort of expectation of what Elissa was supposed to be, and were more than willing to either drop hints or outright press her to live up to them. In fact, the only people he had ever seen that didn't preach to her about duty and obligation were…

Morrigan and Zevran.

Which was by far the most annoying, frustrating, _disquieting_ revelation to ever cross his mind.

Wynne sighed and looked at him sadly, as if he had somehow misunderstood. "Alistair, you know I care about Elissa. I was tempted to drag Lyra out of here by her hair myself when I heard what she said about her. But she has more important things to consider than her own feelings."

Alistair shook his head, adopting the tone that even Wynne didn't argue with. "Let her be." He strode past her, angry with himself that he had never seen this before. "You know, I'm beginning to think the real problem here is that she's got too many people telling her that."

… … …

Alistair was on his way upstairs later that afternoon for a few stolen moments to check in with Daniel in the nursery when Morrigan stepped out of seemingly nowhere in an empty corridor, blocking his path. "What, pray tell, is taking you so long?"

He got the feeling she had been waiting to catch him alone to ambush him. "What are you talking about?"

"When do you plan to give her that ring you've been carrying around for weeks and end this foolishness?"

Alistair was caught completely off guard. He found himself stepping back warily as if the witch had developed some new power he didn't know how to approach. "How did you—"

"Answer the question, Templar."

He recovered quickly—showing any kind of weakness around Morrigan was a bit like diving into a pool full of sharks with an open wound. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her, his manner sardonic enough to make her eyes narrow on him. "Are you sleeping with Aeryc?"

The look on her face would have been hysterical, in any other situation. "_What_?"

He shrugged. "Everyone always seems so eager to know all the details of my relationship so that they can chime in on it; I just thought I'd try it out for myself for a change. Instead I find myself really hoping you don't answer that. Where's the satisfaction exactly?"

"Are you completely incapable of holding a serious conversation with anyone?"

"No. Only with you. We're not talking about this."

Her hands found her hips, her glare becoming less of the natural result of his presence and more threatening. "Even though 'tis your fault that the woman you claim to love is caught somewhere between mincing and stumbling in order to try to be someone who no longer exists? They whisper about her in the hallways, wondering what concessions she'll be granted, wondering what they can do to use her influence with you. Honestly. Even jackals bring down the kill before they fight over the meat."

"What are you, her silent guardian?"

"Her more vocal brother should be of greater concern to you, as he will soon have your hide for his rug and take pleasure in wiping his boots on you daily if you continue to bed her without a proposal. He is not wholly tolerant of your situation, no matter what he endeavors to make you believe."

Alistair shifted uncomfortably at the bald truth of that statement. "I'm going to ask her," he mumbled.

"When?"

"I've already been turned down twice. A man can only take so much rejection. Forgive me if I prefer to space mine out a bit."

"You have the audacity to think of me as ruthless. The women of this gathering could have made my own mother think twice about opening her mouth in their presence. I do not appreciate the thought of Elissa being the subject of any more of their speculation than necessary."

Alistair sighed. "I know."

She glared at him. "Then _fix_ it."

… … …

The young king found he was quite pleased with himself, in the coming days, for never having ventured to explore Highever before. It gave Elissa the chance to show it to him. They spent the afternoons riding through the grassy plains or on the beaches with the boys, more often than not accompanied by three or four of Fergus' guests, who had begun to view the visit as more of a country vacation then a matter of court. In the relaxed, quiet atmosphere that lingered continuously in the lands of Highever, nearly as potent as a drug, Alistair and Elissa found that even in the castle they were able to keep their respective roles more casually than would have been allowed in Denerim, though he could see with increasing concern that it still wore away at her.

Two days turned into three, and then four, and though Elissa was able to stay behind on the excuse that Aeryc and Morrigan still couldn't seem to find what they were looking for, he wondered if at least part of it was honest relief in putting her burdens aside to simply enjoy being with him.

They had been there for five days when Alistair returned from the village later than usual, having gone down to pay his respects to the Revered Mother of the local Chantry and test the waters concerning Elissa's suggestion for the Tower mages. He was well pleased with the minor bits of information he had managed to garner from the formidable woman, enough so that it was time to seriously beginning planning around the idea and arranging more formal meetings with the higher ranking priestesses.

It took him a long time to find Elissa that particular evening, as no one seemed to have seen her for most of the day. Finally, he came across a ruined wall in the back of the grounds, hidden away behind the wall of the courtyard. Weeds and wild roses choked the crumbling stone, revealing only a portion of a wall and one side to what had once been a doorway. Elissa wandered back and forth aimlessly, barefoot in the grass, her head down in deep thought.

"Liss?"

She started and spun around, eyes wide in surprise.

"I'm sorry. I thought you heard me."

She gave him a weak smile and crossed her arms, looking self-conscious as her eyes darted about nervously. "I was just…distracted, I suppose."

"What's so wrong?" He looked around for some sign of what was bothering her, noting that this area seemed to rest lower than the regular grounds, and grassy tracks indicated there was once a passage that led out of the protective walls…

Realization and a sympathetic kind of horror filled him, pinning his eyes back to hers. "This is where the larder used to be."

Elissa didn't answer right away, kicking at the stones at her feet. "I don't know why I came here."

Alistair didn't know what to say, but standing there, it became more real to him than it ever had before. In his mind's eye, he could see now, where Bryce and Eleanor had died to give their daughter time to escape, could see in the crumbling doorway Duncan dragging Elissa away, even as she screamed and fought, devastated at the idea of leaving them behind.

Without thinking he walked up and slipped his arms around her, and she turned readily and accepted his embrace, her head rested against his chest. "You're freezing," he muttered, adjusting his cloak to fit around her.

"I know. I guess I've been out here longer than I thought."

Alistair stripped his cloak off entirely and draped it around her shoulders before taking both of her hands. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

She followed obediently, not speaking the entire way as he led her through the courtyard and up to the gardens, choosing a corner where the patio ended in a stone railing that overlooked the sea, as far away from the ruins as he could think to get. She stayed distressingly silent, looking up in detached curiosity at a climbing vine of white roses that covered the wall.

"Elissa," he said at length. "Please talk to me. I don't know how to help you with whatever you're going through if you don't _talk_ to me."

She leaned against the railing, her arms crossed and her head lowered. "I don't want to step down." It was very quiet, enough that he wouldn't have heard it had he not been listening so closely. She took a breath and squared her shoulders, summoning her innate practicality even in her distress. "Fergus was right about this much: it's high time I took the position in Denerim and stopped riding all over the countryside with Daniel. But, this is what I am now. I don't fit in anywhere without the Grey Wardens."

"If that's what you really want, there are ways to work around it."

Elissa blinked, apparently armed and geared up for battle. She looked a little deflated that he wasn't going to go along with it. "Um, maybe you didn't hear me right."

He laughed quietly. "I think I did. Elissa, it would have been easier for you to step down, obviously. But you're not a nobody. You're still the hero of the Blight, and that's managed to overcome even their short attention span. They trust and respect you. We may have to come up with a few empty gestures to quiet some of the louder grumblers, but if it were too easy, it wouldn't be us, now would it?" He slipped an arm around her waist to draw her closer. "I hate seeing you feel so out of place. You're too good to be catering to this mob."

She sighed, relief flooding through her so potently he could feel the tension spill out of her shoulders. "I didn't want to make this harder for you than I already have."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Love, I've been breaking Ferelden traditions since I made my bid at the Landsmeet. I wouldn't have survived otherwise. Short of causing an uprising, I've learned not to care overly much. What's one more?"

She gave him a more genuine smile this time as she stepped back. "You're really okay with this?"

"If I don't stir up trouble every so often, they start to worry. You're actually doing me a favor." He smiled back, toying with her fingers. "You being Daniel's mother actually strengthens everything we're trying to do here. The fact that we're together only makes them easier to sway."

She laughed. "Alfstanna already lectured me on the advantages of being a part of legend. Benefits of being the king's mistress, I suppose."

His head jerked back up. "What did you just say?"

Elissa pulled up short, startled by the sudden flash in his eyes and unaware of what she had managed to do wrong. "Which part?"

"You really think that after all of this, I would ask you… just what do you think is going on here?"

"I… don't know?"

He suddenly felt sick with a sinking feeling that he didn't like at all, when it occurred to him that she would be willing to try to go along with that arrangement. The thought of Elissa in another woman's shadow, waiting for him to have time for her, was repulsive to him. She would never be able to live that way, even if it was what he wanted. It stung, that she thought so. "Forgetting for one moment that when I finally do get married, I fully intend to keep my vows, do you think I don't know what that would _do_ to you?"

"Oh." She was struggling to keep her voice even; he could hear the quiver in it regardless. "I just thought… if this was the only way… "

"So you can leave me again once you figure out that you hate me for it?" He shoved a hand through his hair and leaned on the railing, looking out at the ocean. "No, thank you. I'm not experiencing that twice in one lifetime."

"So where does that leave us?" she asked quietly from behind him.

She still had it lodged somewhere in that infuriatingly mind that he didn't think she wasn't good enough to serve as his queen. Elissa Cousland, hero of the Blight, Commander of the Grey, who had yet to meet her equal in intelligence except maybe Alfstanna. Beautiful and brave and everything he could have thought to ask for in a wife. And she thought he didn't see that? He dropped his head, the next words lost on the wind and the waves. "Andraste's mercy, what did I do to you?"

"What?"

"Nothing." He took in a deep breath. "I was just thinking, you don't have much reason at all to believe anything I tell you, do you?"

She kept her eyes lowered, idly scratching at the salt that had formed on the stone. "For what it's worth, you never promised me anything."

"Yes I did. I promised I would never hurt you." She looked away, biting her lip, and he knew he had hit the mark. He reached up and plucked a rose near the top of the vine before lifting her chin with his fingertips to find her eyes. "But," he said quietly, offering the rose to her, "I'd like nothing more than a second chance to keep that promise, if you'll let me."

Hesitantly, watching him the whole time, she took it.

"C'mon." He took her hand to lead her back to the castle and the privacy of his own chamber. "I think it's time you and I had a little talk."


	29. Once More With Feeling

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

_**Once More With Feeling**_

.

_Someday somebody's going to ask you_

_A question that you should say 'yes' to_

_Once in your life_

_~ Old 97s_

.

_**Cloudreach; Year 9:31**_

_**The Archdemon**_

_**Denerim**_

.

The darkspawn bodies were everywhere, strewn about in bloody heaps that oozed into the cracks of the stone floor, swollen and rotting. Elissa was speaking to the blond haired boy who serenely stood in the midst of it, seemingly oblivious to the carnage around him. Sandal smiled at her in genuine affection, blissfully unaware, but suddenly Alistair couldn't help but thank the Maker no one in camp was ever stupid enough to provoke the kid.

Elissa started moving again, running up the stairs and through the halls, and he followed closely behind, determined not to let her out of his sight. Before pushing open the last door, she suddenly stopped, waiting to catch her breath, and turned to him with an expression of keen indecision. Alistair slid to a halt behind her and watched her curiously, wondering what was wrong.

She hesitated, something unknown behind those gorgeous eyes and before he could figure out what she was thinking, she was pressed against him, her mouth seeking his. He obliged readily—his arm stole about her waist and he dragged her as close as he could, cursing all the armor in between them. The sickening dance that Elissa and he had been trapped in, caught somewhere between love and hate, hating even more because deep down they both knew there was still love turned the kiss rough and needful, uncaring of the companions who were with them to witness such a personal moment. He could feel his heartbeat accelerate in time with the frantic apologies that coursed through him, unsaid.

He nearly whimpered when it ended.

She was closed off again when she finally pulled away, her eyes shuttered and unfeeling, reminiscent of the girl who had just lost her family in Ostagar as she readied them for the fight ahead.

Even days later, Alistair couldn't remember the details. He remembered terror, the Taint in his blood and his desperation to kill the Archdemon himself rising up together in blind rage. He remembered Elissa's screamed orders and Wynne's desperate casting. He remembered tearing, white-hot pain, falling as the shrieks closed in on him. Elissa spared him only a glance before she was beyond his power to stop her, sprinting towards the nearly-still form of the Archdemon. A burst of magic, the shrieks were obliterated, and Morrigan's yellow eyes were on him as the white light washed over the rooftop in a thundering, cleansing wave…

When the light faded, Morrigan was gone. Wynne hovered over him, her eyes red and frantic as she poured magic into him, begging him to lie still. He could barely understand her, his mind whirling feverishly around the single thought that Elissa wasn't moving…

He didn't realize until much later just how hard Wynne had to fight to save his life.

But his wounds were physical—torn flesh and broken bone and nothing that his mage hadn't healed a thousand times before, though he'd bear the grooved scars left by the claws of the Archdemon across his stomach and ribs for the rest of his life. It was only two days before he was up, against Wynne's protests, and hovering outside of Elissa's room, where she lay trapped in a mysterious slumber. He came each night, appearing with the deepened shadows of the evening after the castle was asleep, keeping silent vigil at her bedside, praying more earnestly than he ever had in his life that she open would her eyes.

He was there when the news spread that she was awake. Seeing her surrounded by her friends, Alistair felt more like an outsider than ever, permanently removed from the small, dysfunctional family he had helped to gather. He kept to the hallway, daring nothing more than a peek inside to assure himself she was really there.

Elissa saw him.

For a split second, their eyes met. The smile froze on her face, though the chattering group around her didn't seem to notice the difference. She watched him with a pleading look in her eyes, trying to will him to come in and say something, anything, so they could maybe salvage something of what they once were. For a moment he was tempted, tired of being away from her warmth and smile and laugh, but he stopped himself.

He couldn't do it. If he went to her now, he'd never be able to tear himself away.

He turned and walked away.

The next time he saw Elissa, it was weeks later. She was still recovering, and he almost winced at seeing just how much weight she'd lost during her long illness. Her arms and legs, both visible as she stood proudly in front of him in skirted leather armor, were all hard muscle and bone, making her stomach appear a little swollen, just a mild distortion just below her waist. Despite the appearance of bruise-like discolorations beneath her eyes and a paleness to her skin, she still looked as beautiful as ever to hungry eyes that had longed to rest on her again, if only for a moment.

Her arms were crossed tightly around herself like a protective wall, and his heart sank in his chest. "You sent for me, Your Majesty?"

"I did." He cleared his throat, trying not to reveal how nervous he had been about this meeting, ever since he realized he would have one last excuse to see her. He gave her a crooked smile. "I'll admit I'm a little surprised you responded so quickly."

She regarded him coolly, not smiling back. "No concerns there, Your Majesty. I am… well aware of my place."

He felt himself flinch. "Elissa, please don't. I would have spoken to you sooner, but with everything that's happened, Arl Eamon kept telling me the propriety of thing was just too complicated…"

Her eyes narrowed until they were nothing more than slits on him, and Alistair's voice trailed off miserably, realizing immediately that it was probably the very worst thing he could have said. He just didn't know what to do anymore, and gone were the days when she found his clumsy speech endearing. Each mistake now was another knife in her chest, bringing her closer and closer to hating him.

"In the interest in keeping _propriety_," she said slowly, her voice flat and cold, "it would be best if His Majesty referred to me as Lady Cousland."

"I… I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Oh, I think you did." There was a hint of hostility before she hid it, disappearing again beneath the ice. He would have almost preferred the anger. "His Majesty would be better served if he got to the reason he brought me here. It may cause less complication that way."

Her coldness was rubbing him raw, as was the stubborn refusal to use his name, and his voice sounded foreign to him when he responded heatedly. "Fine. I'll get to right to the point. I'm sending you to Amaranthine."

"You're _what_?"

_Oho, I've got your attention now, haven't I_? "There's a need for Ferelden to assign a Warden Commander, and I'm giving Rendon Howe's holdings over to the Grey Wardens. You're fully capable of serving as arlessa as well taking command of the Order. So congratulations." He held up the official order that was supposed to have been nothing more than a technicality. "It's yours."

"The Warden Commander has always served from the compound in Denerim! You're ordering me to take over the lands of the man who _murdered my family_!"

_I was going to ask you—talk to you. It wasn't supposed to go like this… _"Amaranthine is too important to let it sit there without an established, trusted ruler." His anger dimmed, and he had to fight not to squirm beneath her glare. "I thought—"

"_You_ thought?" Her voice was heavy with skepticism. She was just too observant sometimes. "There's got to be a dozen men clamoring for that position. Fergus would be more than willing to hand it over to one of his vassals. This was Arl Eamon's idea, wasn't it?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "It makes sense, Elissa."

"Oh, of course, and you always do what Arl Eamon says. If he says it's best to send me to Amaranthine, well, who are you to argue that maybe I'd rather not?"

"You would rather stay here? Why? Because we're getting along _so_ well now?"

She stiffened, the mask firmly back in place, denying him even the satisfaction of another glare, and he had the sudden impression that he had missed something vital in that exchange, something he couldn't get back now. She gave him a curt, sharp nod. "I'll depart in all haste, Your Majesty."

Alistair had never thought himself capable of cruelty, but never had he known he could feel so shredded and defeated, either. The words were out of his mouth before he could even consider them. "The sooner the better." He tossed the order onto the desk. "It seems it would be best for everyone involved if you were just…gone." He stormed past her, uncaring if it was his office or not, disgusted with himself and her and the utter mess he'd made of this last chance to talk to her. "I'll see you in the hall, _Lady Cousland_."

He slammed the door behind him.

The celebration was worse than a nightmare, having to stand up there in front of the crowds and pretend that he was as happy as the rest of them while his life was crumbling around him. Elissa played the part beautifully, graciously listening to his offer of a boon with a smile as she pretended to honestly consider it.

"I desire nothing more, Your Majesty." The smile was still in place, the charade still convincing for those who surrounded the dais, because it would never, ever do for Ferelden's hero to spout the retort he could see in her eyes.

_I don't want _anythin_g from _you.

During the feast, Elissa sat at the table of honor beside Zevran, deep in an earnest discussion that had the assassin nodding knowingly. Alistair didn't want to know what they were up to, sure at this point he wouldn't be able to stand whatever blow she was preparing for him next.

When by chance, their eyes happened to meet again, she could very well have been glancing at a stranger.

It was all he could do to keep talking like nothing had happened. Everything he needed to know was buried in that simple, empty look. No amount of apologizing was going to fix what had transpired. Still, he had to try. _Later_, he thought desperately. _I'll talk to her later; try to make her understand_...

But later never came. His mind replayed the last words he had hurled at her over and over again, each cycle more bitter than the last as he stood alone in the chill of the grey morning, silently choking on his own heartbreak while he watched her race away from him without so much as a backwards glance.

… … …

_**Solace; Year 9:35**_

_**Five Years after the Archdemon**_

_**Highever**_

Elissa lounged on the floor in front of the fireplace in the antechamber, her back braced against the edge of the footrest and a blanket around her shoulders. The nights were growing colder, even though the days were still rich with summer, and she had gotten more chilled than she had realized walking around barefoot in the cool twilight.

She had immediately stripped free of her confining gown and slipped into a simple grey dress of plain, serviceable fabric, sick to her heart of velvet and lace and bone corsets that seemed more like torture devices then helpful embellishments.

Alistair sat directly across from her, his legs crossed as he slouched forward, listening intently while she described the first months of her life at Vigil's Keep. They had been talking for a long time now, after he had given his guards strict instructions that they weren't to be disturbed for any reason before bolting the door behind them to make sure someone like Wynne or Aeryc didn't try to bypass the order, thinking it may not have applied to them.

"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?" he asked when she was finished, looking pained. "Wynne came back from the keep and told me about… she never mentioned that she didn't bother to _ask_ you. I assumed that someone else had told her…"

"It doesn't really matter now," she replied. "And don't get too angry at Wynne. I already spoke with her about it, and she feels horrible for the part she played in this whole mess. Besides, I wasn't exactly in the most serene state of mind when I found out I was going to have Daniel. I threw a bit of a fit, actually. It was clear to everybody there that I wanted… well…"

He gave her a weak smile. "That you wanted to hurt me."

She cringed. "Strictly in the physical sense, if that's any comfort."

His smile became something more genuine. "Oddly enough, it kind of is," he said, reaching out to take her hand with a sigh. "It seems that everything that could have gone wrong back then did. It would almost be funny, if it hadn't been…utterly miserable." He was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. "I've been wanting to ask you—when you did try to send word to me, did it ever occur to you to think that maybe, given the circumstances…" He took a deep breath. "Would you have come back, had I asked you to?"

She let her head fall back on the surface of the footrest and gazed into the fire, giving the question the careful consideration it deserved. "I don't know," she finally answered. "By then, there would have been so much doubt that it was the only reason you wanted me there. But, I did think about it. When I sent out those letters, I think part of me hoped that it meant you would come for me."

"And instead you got no response at all." He blew out a long breath, shoving both hands through his hair. "That meddling old _bastard_. I thought I needed him, you know. I trusted him implicitly to get me through those first years. I should have stood up to him the moment he started pressuring me to send you away. I should have—"

"Alistair, don't do that to yourself," she said, interrupting him. "It doesn't help. Trust me. And he _did_ get you through those first years. Try to remember that when we get back to Denerim." She sat up and readjusted her blanket, shrugging. "Or, you know, hang him. I don't really care."

He laughed, reaching for her hand again, and she smiled to herself, glad she had distracted him from beating himself up over things that couldn't be helped now. She bore no love for Arl Eamon, and pure practicality didn't trust him to serve in such a close capacity to the throne, but Alistair would only hate himself if he acted rashly against him. He needed time to decide what to do.

"I feel like I need to say something," he said abruptly, drawing her gaze back to him. "So…just do me a favor and let me, okay?" He waited for her to nod in agreement. "After the Landsmeet, for a long time, I couldn't understand how we could come to the agreement that we couldn't stay together, and then still end up at each other's throats the way we did. Just my idiocy coming into play, I suppose." He sighed ruefully. "I had no right to treat you the way I did. I was horrible to you. I understand, now, why you might have thought I only wanted you because of Daniel." He looked at her, and his eyes were as earnest and honest as the young man who'd had to build up his courage to give her a rose. "But, I just want to be with you, Elissa."

"And I want to be with you," she said. "But it's not that simple, is it?"

"It is," he said quietly. "I'm not some lesser son or land-poor noble trying to better their situation by creating an alliance. I don't have to gain anyone's approval. The Landsmeet has absolutely no say in who I choose."

"Alistair, that doesn't change what they _think_. They're still going to harass you about it every chance they get, tell you I'm not the right choice for you."

"Elissa," he said with a touch of exasperation. "You still don't get it, do you? I swear, for someone who's so smart there are times when you're just…_not_."

He rose up to his knees and dragged her against him, hastily cutting off her reply. It wasn't gentle and teasing or like any of his other kisses. It was desperate, a physical manifestation of the need to silence the small part of her that held him at a distance, and he clutched her tightly against him as if he were afraid of letting her go. All the turmoil that had been swelling inside of her received a sudden outlet, a new direction in which to focus the storm of emotion and she kissed him back with matching fervor, fingers tangling in his hair. A low sound rumbled in his throat at her enthusiastic response, causing a pool of liquid heat to gather in her lower belly. Her hands moved nearly of their own accord to rid him of the offending finery he wore and he readily shrugged out of it, stripping to his plain linen shirt before his mouth moved to her throat, his fingers fumbling at the laces of her bodice. The stray thought that the door to the bedroom was only a few feet away skipped once through her mind, but it skittered away just as quickly when he tugged sharply at the neckline of her dress, forcing it open down to her waist.

They weren't going to make it that far.

He leaned forward, his hands on the small of her back and the nape of her neck so that he could guide her down without pulling away.

"I don't care what any of them think," he whispered into the curve of her neck as he lowered her to floor, positioning himself between her thighs. He braced himself on one elbow so he could look down at her while the other hand glided slowly up the outside of her thigh, dragging her dress hem with it. "All I care about—my whole life, is _you_. I won't lose you. Not again." Her mind was reeling, spinning uselessly out of control at those declarations and what they could mean. Alistair wasn't giving her the chance to consider it, stealing away her penchant for practicality and drawing forth sheer instinct with another scorching kiss. She brought her legs up around him, holding him in place as he pushed against her, his open mouth hot and demanding on hers.

When he pulled at her underclothes she raised her hips and allowed him to slide them off. She melted into his touch, whimpering against his mouth while his fingers made her limbs tremble and her breath catch in her throat. He surprised her then by sitting back, and every nerve in her body screeched in protest, but he pulled his shirt over his head and then he was back, moving lower, his mouth burning a moist trail down her chest and stomach before he settled even lower, pulling her leg up over his shoulder.

At the first touch of his tongue a breathless moan welled up and escaped her, her fingers curled in her skirt for lack of anything else to hold onto, her back arching off the floor. His hands moved up and rested on her belly, holding her in place while she writhed. Her mind went utterly blank, lost somewhere in heat and want and the pinnacle was racing closer so quickly, shocking her with the intensity already coiling in her core. Within mere moments it was there, pulsing through her, wave after wave of wordless ecstasy that made her cry out.

When the haze of pleasure faded he was hovering over her, gently sliding her gown off of her shoulders while he continued to kiss every inch of her he could reach. She sat up and helped him push the fabric down around her waist, and one clever flick of his fingers against her back freed her breasts from the binding cloth as he lowered her back to the floor. His caresses were careful as they moved over her bare body, handling her so tenderly now it made her ache. It seemed her skin was leaping into his touch, quivering beneath his attentions as he built her desire back up in slow degrees, using hands and teeth and tongue to fan the flames.

She was nearly mindless with want when he stretched back over her and kissed her, long and deep; she heard the light jingle of metal when he tugged impatiently at his belt and then he was inside of her, and her entire body seemed to sigh in relief. He went perfectly still for a moment, choking off a gasp, revealing just what a test it had been to restrain himself for so long before he began to move.

Pleasure thrilled through her at every slow thrust, sending little shivers blazing along her skin. She whimpered when the pressure began to build again, her body seemingly eager to answer his gentle prompting.

"_Maker_." He gasped against her shoulder at the swiftness of her response. Her hips rose to meet him, urging him deeper, straining for the climax. He quickened his pace, responding to her unspoken demands. "Come on, love," he said in a broken, breathless whisper while her nerves tightened, hovering at the very edge and his mouth worked almost desperately over her throat and shoulders. "Give me another one."

Her body's response was immediate, shocked into spasms of completion, and this time when she went tumbling over the edge, he followed, holding her a moment longer before spilling into her with a low, satisfied groan.

Elissa sank into the soft rug, feeling boneless and thoroughly sated. The thudding of her heart mingled with his, nothing but the sound of their breathing breaking through the silence. When he moved away, something in her cried out at the loss, but he only stretched out his side to lie next to her, bending one arm to support his head in his hand. Suddenly mindful of the people always just outside, she pulled up the blanket and covered herself in some useless attempt to reclaim her modesty before wiggling the rest of the way out of her poor dress, ignoring his little whine of protest. His free hand continued to roam idly over her waist, her arms, still needing to touch her.

With a smile he bent down and pressed his lips to her temple. "I love you," he whispered. "Only you. _Always_ you."

"And I love you." It was the first time she had said it since the days of the Blight, and his eyes went warm and soft in the firelight. His hand closed around hers, stroking her fingers with his thumb, and when he spoke his voice was very quiet.

"Then marry me."

Her pulse seemed to jump into her throat and she felt her eyes widen, afraid she had heard incorrectly. But he was looking at her so intensely, and seemed to be holding his breath. "Are you…"

"Oh, I'm serious." He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling a little ruefully. "I, um, hadn't planned to ask yet, with everything else going on. I wanted to wait for the perfect moment...but I seem to be really, really bad at that." He smiled sheepishly at her soft laugh. "I had this whole speech planned, which occurs to me now included actually _asking_, and I'm sure it would have been _very_ romantic, or at least I'm fairly certain my pants would have been fastened properly, but…" He fell serious again, reaching over to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. "It's not a whim, Elissa. I've had six years to learn I don't want to be without you. Not ever." Despite the conviction of the words, he was clearly getting more nervous by the second. "So…marry me?"

She could only stare at him. "Okay."

He blinked, then began to laugh, smiling down at her, and it was like the sun breaking over the mountains. "'Okay'? That's the best you can come up with?"

"Well, you never did actually _ask_," she pointed out, laughing and feeling lighter than she had in years.

"But still! I'm finally getting the response I want, and the least you could do is ignore my fumbling the words up and say 'yes.' There's a script for this, you know."

"There's usually a ring, too, so we're just breaking all sorts of traditions."

He suddenly twisted, looking toward a wooden box on the desk in the corner, hissing between his teeth. "Dammit." He started to get up. "One sec."

"Wait." She grabbed his arm, stopping him, and she knew she looked more than a little surprised. "You have one?"

"Of course I do." He grinned. "I told you this wasn't a whim. I'm not completely hopeless. Well, apparently I am. But I still have one."

"I'm… I'm completely out of clever retorts, actually."

"Then say yes," he said, and Elissa squealed in surprise when he suddenly rolled, pinning her beneath him. "Say it, or by Andraste, I'll just keep starting all over again until you do."

"Yes!" The word exploded out of her in a swell of laughter when he grasped her knee and pulled it up around his hip. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes." She continued to giggle against his lips, completely unable to stop smiling, but then, he seemed to be as well. "But… if that was supposed to be a threat, you really need to work on your persuasion tactics."


	30. Primeval

_**A/N: **__Extra special hugs to all the cheeky monkeys of the Random Acts of Fuckery chat room for rescuing this story with their lovely encouragement, generous hand-holding, and ability to tell me to suck it up and finish it already._

_I cut the Interlude I mentioned. It __wasn't working. This chapter is kind of a scattering of set-ups that needed to happen but weren't enough to make up individual chapters. I'm sure I could have worked harder, made them longer, and drawn this out for another five chapters, but it just seemed… redundant, really. So, I apologize for the roughness._

_Browse, ponder__ and enjoy! _

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**Chapter Twenty ****Eight**

**Primeval**

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_(toast) To Peace!_

_~ Iron Man_

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Fergus was the first informed of the betrothal the next morning, as Alistair was both suffering from a burning desire to get off of his hit list as well as make some sort of offering that held up the illusion he had spoken with _him _first for the benefit of the nobility present, though he knew Fergus would not have demanded any such thing. They teyrn seemed more relieved than truly happy to hear the news, though Alistair couldn't fully blame him for that. Likely he had been dwelling for weeks on his sister and his nephew, and what the implications of the resurrected relationship would mean to them if it didn't last. It pricked his conscious a bit, that he had given this man who he considered a friend more cause to worry than anything, but he didn't let it bother him too much. Not now, when Elissa was finally promised to be his.

He was a little surprised that Leliana managed to restrain herself throughout the formal announcement and the gathering that followed, congratulating them both with a demure kind of happiness that left him slightly disappointed – at least until they were able to escape back upstairs to the privacy of only family and friends, at which point she knocked Elissa clean off her feet in her exuberance.

He wasn't sure how much Daniel understood about leaving the only home he ever knew, but the concept of no more good-byes was good enough for him. He seemed happy about the idea of moving to Denerim, asking question after question about the castle and the knights and were they very, very sure that Sam would be there, too?

Alistair wanted nothing more than to revel in the celebrations, but Elissa was already teetering on anxious, and he knew he would have to wait and save any basking sentiments for later. She wouldn't be able to relax until the mysterious cave had been found and dealt with.

His resignation was complete when Aeryc came tearing back to the castle late the following evening, looking pensive and concerned as he ran to the honor table, forgetting even his deeply ingrained sense of propriety in his haste. "Liss, we need to talk."

She immediately got up to follow him into the hall, and Alistair trailed behind her, aiming a pointed look at Maryn to make sure they were left alone. He didn't need a panic spreading with the amount of people that remained in the castle if Aeryc was carrying news of Darkspawn attacks.

If only things were ever that simple.

"We found it," the Lieutenant Commander stated grimly the moment they were alone in Fergus' study. "And I can tell you exactly why it took us so long. It was already caved in."

He waited a moment for the full implication of that report to sink in. Elissa began pacing, nervously fiddling with the end of her braid. She was in her regular clothing again, a move that had enabled her to regain footing with the visiting nobles, whom Alistair had even begun to feel a little sorry for as they floundered around trying to decide how to address her properly.

She sighed, setting her hands on her hips. "Is it possible some of our men took care of it and forgot to report it to us?"

Aeryc raised an eyebrow at her, doubtful. "I think you underestimate their fear of your temper."

Alistair shifted uncomfortably. "Couldn't the Legion of the Dead have found the entrance and taken care of the problem?"

"It's not very likely," Elissa answered dubiously. "Not this far east. And with the dreams, and Kern's warning, and the Emissary emitting that strange song… there's something much worse going on in the underground." She blew her hair out of her face. "We're riding out tomorrow."

Aeryc nodded and went to carry out the unspoken order to inform the men. "Dawn?"

"The sooner the better."

Alistair waited until he had gone to lean against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "So what do you want to do?"

She considered, walking in a slow circle as she thought the matter through. "I need to speak to Fergus about the surrounding area, and whether or not he's heard any rumors, no matter how wild they may have seemed at the time. And I need to know your own plans for how we're going to handle this."

Alistair shrugged. "I'm going on your instincts in this, Elissa. You're the Warden Commander here."

She nodded. "You plan to come, I assume?"

"From what you say, there's something ugly brewing. I'd say that falls under cause for my concern. And Leliana didn't pack that armor just to get drunk with Alfstanna. You can count on both of us being there."

She nodded again and wrapped her arms around him, studying him a little wistfully. "You know, sometimes I wish I had Leliana's single-minded determination to focus on… nicer things."

He slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer. "I don't, my love. You wouldn't be _you_, then," he assured quietly. "Besides, I think I can safely say if you displayed that amount of dedication to ribbons and color schemes, it might just drive me crazy."

-oOo-

They great hall was nearly empty when they returned, much to Alistair's relief. He hated rationing how much he ate in crowded halls, when the effects of being a Grey Warden still demanded that he try to shove as much food into his mouth as quickly as possible. He usually resorted to sneaking into the kitchens after formal meals. It was a comfortable relief to have Elissa sit down next to him and double the serving she had previously taken.

They were still plowing through the mountain of food in silence when Fergus approached, crossing his arms. His eyes skipped over Elissa only briefly, obviously noting the change in attire, but apparently he was tired of aiding the others in making his sister miserable, and instead pounced on a less condescending topic. "You didn't honestly think I was going to let you get away with only taking ten men tomorrow, did you?" he demanded.

Elissa swallowed and sat up straighter, eyeing him suspiciously. "Riding through Highever with a small army and flying the colors of the teyrn aren't exactly the approach I need for this mission, Fergus."

"Ha ha ha. And here I had hoped to make a bloody parade of it." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You're not ordering me back, Elissa. These are my lands. You have no jurisdiction here."

"I had no intention of ordering you back, but since your Grace insists on being a pig-headed brute, I'll point out that by law, _all_ matters pertaining to the darkspawn fall under my jurisdiction. You ride under my orders or not at all."

"The devil I do!"

"Hey, would you look at that – I've got the king of Ferelden right here. What say we ask him?"

"Leave me out of this," Alistair muttered around a mouthful, but they weren't paying any attention to him.

The bickering continued in earnest as the servants moved to clear the rest of the places and refill the drinks, paying no heed to what they had come to accept as perfectly normal behavior between the teyrn and his sister.

Things were falling back into place in that regard, at least.

-oOo-

For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, Alistair traded in his chainmail for full plate the following morning, more determined than usual to come out of an approaching disaster as unscathed as humanly possible. It was heavier than he recalled, and it took some time getting used to his limited mobility. Once they were on the road, though, he felt his old self awakening, brought to the fore by the familiar sound of Leliana chattering away, happily oblivious to the tension that gripped the rest of the group, focusing only on the beauty that painted her outlook no matter how dire the situation. Alistair was careful to keep just ahead, enough to be out of the range of being sucked into the bard's plans for his wedding, though he occasionally shot Elissa an amused look that made her glare back at him, aware of what he was doing.

"I will stand with you, of course, as Morrigan would only scoff at the very idea. We must decide on another color that will compliment the red and gold of the Theirin heraldry. I was considering a light grey, similar to silver. You will not want the importance of who you are to be ignored in any way, and the presence of a soft shade of grey may serve as a decent reminder…"

"Leliana." Elissa's voice carried the barest hint of exasperation. "My sweet. My heart. I am very excited to go over this with you. But I kind of need to focus here."

"I agree. These details will not take care of themselves. You will be waiting for the spring, yes?"

"No," Alistair cut in quickly despite his previous desire to stay out of it. "I'm not giving her that much time to reconsider. We decided on the end of Firstfall."

Leliana's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Four months? _Four months _you've given me? And in the middle of winter? Oh, Elissa, what did I do to make you hate me so?"

Elissa smiled at the almost comical look of despair on Leliana's lovely face. "I'm sure you can make it work."

"I am quite sure I can, too – but must you make it so _difficult_?"

"Oy!" Aeryc called from far up ahead, waving an arm over his head. "There's a darkspawn cave up here. Just in case anyone's interested."

Elissa scrambled down from her horse and jogged over to meet them. By the time Alistair caught up, she was looking over the pile of rock and dirt critically, her hand resting on a large boulder that took up most of what must have been the cave's entrance. "Whoever was here knew what they were doing," she commented before bending down to study the ground for some clue as to what had happened.

"I agree," Aeryc said quietly. "There's no way we can get in there and try to figure out what the darkspawn were up to." He sighed. "I'm beginning to think someone is covering their tracks, Liss."

"Not just someone," Elissa said quietly from where she knelt on the ground. She picked up something small and shining from the dirt and handed it to Alistair, her eyes hard and grim. He took the token, and beneath the crusted dirt he could just make out the stamp of a griffon. He glanced at her questioningly. "I don't recognize this token."

"You wouldn't. It's used by the Order in Orlais."

Alistair flipped the token into his palm, squeezing it in his fist as a swell of panic and anger both filled him, tamped down immediately by sheer will power. "What are _they_ doing here?"

"I'm sure I don't know. They don't generally appear and start doing my job for me."

"They also don't make it a habit of sending ambassadors from _any _organization without giving me some sort of notice first. Tensions are still too high for a group of Orlesians to attempt dropping in for a casual visit. I…" he stopped in mid-sentence. "Do you feel that?"

But Elissa was already on her feet, and the other Wardens were turning to look in the same direction, which was answer enough for him.

"Go!" Elissa ordered, already running for her horse. "Don't let them get away!"

The group of darkspawn were headed for a dried up riverbed to the south, where they had apparently been camped out for some time. Elissa climbed gingerly over the rocks and shrubs to look down at the scene, swearing beneath her breath.

"Bastards made themselves right at home in my brother's demesne, didn't they?"

"I'm sure you'll make them regret it enough. On foot?" Alistair clarified with a pointed glance at the rocky slope to the camp below. He and Elissa drew their weapons simultaneously, exchanging a familiar look. "Let's go."

The darkspawn were both outnumbered and caught unaware, turning the tide of violence from battle to sheer slaughter as Elissa and her Wardens charged through their ranks. Alistair discovered a sense of grisly satisfaction in being caught up in the frenzy of the hunt again, the old call in his blood churning in response to the monster's presence as he fell back into carefully built instinct with Elissa beside him. It was almost unnerving, how easily they both withdraw into old fighting habits, which left Aeryc floundering for a few moments before he could figure out how he could fit into the new scheme. Fortunately for a warrior of his experience, it didn't take him long.

Alistair found himself slightly envious of Morrigan's new target for her magical support when Aeryc came out of the fight unscathed, and Alistair ended up doubled over, his hands on his knees and breathing heavily from the exertion. "Maker's _breath_," he muttered in real exasperation with an embarrassed glance at Elissa. "I should start training with you in the mornings."

She smiled, her eyes sparkling in amusement. "Certainly couldn't hurt."

"Oh, shut up."

Fergus ran over, carefully weaving though the crowd of Wardens who moved throughout the carnage, slitting the throats of any darkspawn that had managed to survive. Only two of the Wardens suffered from minor injuries in the scuffle. "Elissa," he breathed anxiously when he reached them. "There's a village not five miles from here – a small crowd that settled here during the Blight when they ran from the horde. They have almost no defenses. We have to check in with them."

-oOo-

Alistair could smell the heavy odor of old blood and burning before the village even came into view, and kicked his horse into a gallop, Elissa and Fergus right on his tail. The sight of blackened thatch and telltale silhouettes dangled from the trees greeted him, and he quickly dismounted, angered at the sight of his guards balking at the idea of moving through the possibly diseased destruction. "Search for survivors. Now."

The Wardens were already moving, ducking through the small houses and calling, looking for any sign that someone had survived. Alistair coaxed himself to survey the damage critically, noting with a twinge of hope that there were only a handful of bodies scattered throughout the area, and at least half of them belonged the darkspawn.

He wandered into a small, neat cottage whose door had been splintered, and gagged and nearly backed away again at the smell of rot the permeated from the small, single room living space. He covered his nose with the back of his hand and forced himself to go inside, immediately finding the source of the stench. A man and woman – younger than he and Elissa, but the looks of it – had been slaughtered just inside the door, before they even had a chance to defend themselves. Several pieces of simple furniture lay twisted in splinters just around them; evidence that they had tried and failed to keep their attackers at bay with a poorly built barricade.

He stepped over them, determined to follow his own order to search, but the sight that greeted him next was enough to freeze him in place and drain all his resolve away. A baby basket lay toppled in the corner, and he could see the small bundle on the floor, still wrapped within the blankets. He began to back away in horror, when suddenly a shift, like a tiny kick, disrupted the pile of bedding.

His feet carried him forward without much thought, kicking larger objects out of the way before he tossed the basket aside, to find a tiny infant, no more than a few weeks old, looking up at him through clouded black eyes.

"Elissa!" he called over his shoulder as he fell to his knees, feeling completely helpless. The baby kicked and squirmed, its face screwing up and going red as it prepared to howl. Hesitantly, he began to reach out, then, thinking better of it, he yanked off his gauntlets before carefully picking up the now-awake infant, who squalled in protest, its voice broken and hoarse from screaming with no response for longer than his soft heart could bear to contemplate. "Liss! Get in here, quick!"

"What are you - oh, _Maker_!You poor thing!" Elissa was beside him in an instant, gingerly taking the baby from his awkward hold and settling it against her shoulder, making soothing noises beneath her breath.

"It's not like the darkspawn to leave survivors." Aeryc's voice was exceptionally quiet as he leaned in the doorway, his eyes fixed and locked on the tiny figure nudging at Elissa's shoulder, desperately looking for some source of nourishment. Alistair recalled, despite his desperately trying not to, that the Warden had lost his own child in a similar fashion. For a moment, Aeryc didn't move, visibly fighting for control, before he sighed and ran a hand over his face. Without another word he went to rummage through the disaster, looking around for some sign of who these people might have been to help connect the infant with distant family, if possible. He dug up a stack of clean rags and handed them to Elissa, who immediately sat right on the cottage floor and began to remove the sopping, overly full diaper.

"He's right, you know." Alistair kept his voice low, just between Elissa and himself, as he crouched down beside her. "It's like the ones before. They ran through here in a blind panic. The baby never would have survived otherwise."

"She," she corrected quietly. Elissa frowned, concentrating on her task, but he saw the line of worry appear between her brows. "I think…" she began slowly, "I think maybe it's time you and I tracked down someone who may know enough about the darkspawn and the Grey Wardens to tie all these omens together."

"Like who? There are painfully few people who have bothered to study the Grey Wardens," he argued. "I've gathered it's a bit of a taboo subject, really, so aside from Wynne and…" his voice trailed off when what she was suggesting finally hit him and he looked at her incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"Avernus knows more about the darkspawn and what drives them than anyone alive, Alistair."

"'Alive' is kind of a stretch, don't you think?"

She met his gaze levelly as she reached for another clean rag and took out her waterskin. She poured a bit on the corner of the cloth and offered it to the infant, who suckled at the water eagerly. "I have a feeling he knows more about what's going on here than we necessarily want him to." She turned back to Aeryc. "If the darkspawn weren't as intent on the kill there may be more survivors than we thought, maybe hiding in a cellar somewhere."

He nodded and paused again at the doorway. "I'll see about finding some milk to get her properly fed," he said quietly before hurriedly ducking out of the ruined cottage.

-oOo-

It was a hard thing, to admit how good it felt to get the heavy armor off. There was once a time when Alistair had felt naked without it, more stumbling and clumsy than usual as he tried to adjust to a full range of motion and being much, much lighter than he was used to. He had learned, with a great deal of surprise, that he was faster than he thought after so many years of weighing his limbs down, and so had finally begun training in different techniques like Elissa's duel wielding, even though he still favored the sword and shield.

He finally shed the last piece and stretched experimentally, feeling like he was floating in contrast, and promised himself he'd start training in it at least on occasion so this didn't happen to him again. He also took his time cleaning himself up, soaking in the warm water for a long time that evening. Over the course of the Blight little things like hot baths had been such a rare luxury that he found himself more attuned to appreciating them now, and often laughed at himself at how important cleanliness had become to him.

It was late by the time he joined Elissa in the antechamber of his rooms, feeling quite a bit better than he had returning to the castle. A handful of survivors had been found, cowering in a storm cellar as Elissa had guessed, and were now being tended downstairs. The others had flown, to Maker only knew where, but one thing was certain. The infant was left alone – her parents had no family ties in the small village.

Daniel found the baby fascinating, peering at her curiously every chance he got and even following behind after the young girl who worked in Fergus' kitchens, who had a baby of her own and more than enough to feed two.

Alistair wasn't overly surprised to see him sound asleep on the couch beside Elissa, who sat in front of the fire with the baby asleep against her shoulder. Her hair was loose and she wore a simple white shift as she hummed tunelessly beneath her breath.

Alistair checked the strange fluttering that came over him at the sight and crouched down in front of them, his eyes on the sleeping infant in Elissa's arms, before noting the wistful look in her eyes. His insides sunk a little in resigned disappointment. No matter how many times this issue came up between them, it didn't seem to get any easier to deal with. "You want another one, don't you?"

"No," she said softly, carefully shifting the sleeping bundle to her lap. At his pointed look, she heaved a sigh. "Yes," she admitted unwillingly. "I do. Daniel's getting bigger, and I miss having this little bundle of warmth to dote on." She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "But we've broken too many rules of nature already for me to dwell on it."

"Doesn't mean we can't _try_," he offered as optimistically as he could manage. "I certainly wouldn't mind having a daughter. Giving Ferelden a little princess to fall in love with. And I'm positively full of lectures on temptation and sin and evil lurking around every corner. The Chantry has me well prepared for that much."

She smiled at him. "It's ridiculously easy to picture you with a little girl." She sighed and patted the baby's back distractedly as she continued to doze quietly, warm and content. "But I'm not going to get my hopes up, I think. Daniel is miracle enough for one lifetime."

He watched her, lost and locked away in her thoughts, and he settled next to her. "Tell me what's so wrong."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "It's just this. Again. Seeing the destruction and the death and the blood. It's a wearying thing, even after all these years."

"There's more to it than that."

"Of course there is." She sighed heavily. "Don't you see? Fergus tells me to wait a few days, and this is what happens. I was too late to save them. We should have found those darkspawn as soon as we came to Highever." She reached down and stroked the child's thick patch of black hair. "And now she's going to be sent to the Chantry, and have whatever life she could have had taken from her. I'm going to see Avernus. Tomorrow, if I can manage it." She blinked rapidly. "And then I'm going to find who's responsible for all of this and rip his spine out through his throat. I swear it."

He dropped his arms around her shoulders and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Tomorrow, then. I'm coming with you."

-oOo-

Alistair was still at his breakfast when the messenger arrived the next morning. At first he spared only a glance for the missives handed to him, dropping them on the table next to his elbow, but the sight of an unfamiliar seal caught his interest. The wax was black, with a simple, empty circle marking the press, and it was simple curiosity that made him pick up the letter and open it.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

_To Alistair Theirin_

_Senior Grey Warden of Ferelden_

_You are hereby ordered, under the power of the First Warden, to report immediately to Denerim for questioning regarding your involvement with the witch known as Flemeth and her daughter, of unknown name. Failure to respond will be taken as an act of desertion._

_Lucius_

_Lieutenant Warden Commander of Orlais_

Alistair's eyes frantically skimmed the letter twice before he scrambled up, ignoring the stunned look of the people in the hall as he shoved past them, and took the stairs at a run. "_ELISSA_!"


	31. Choices

_**A/N**__: I have a round of thanks to give this time around: _

_To _Mille Libre_, author extraordinaire, for proof reading the remaining plot and helping me to untangle the fragmented twists into something both clear and viable. You'd be surprised how convoluted the ending of a story can get when its been sitting there forever adopting tacked-on additions. The fact she managed to find anything worth using amazes me._

_To _Mackillian_, for always being there to let me bounce ideas and innumerable questions around in her clever brain while in chat, to join me in loud (or at least capitalized) ranting when a thought won't solidify itself, and for being willing to call me on it when and idea is just… dumb._

_To _RandomWittering_, who has graciously agreed to lend me her time and creativity, since I broke my wrist a couple of weeks ago, and getting all this tied together has become more difficult. You'll get the chance to see her lovely influence in the next chapter, I hope._

_And, once again, to all the others who have held my hand, continued reading, taken the time out of their day to leave a review, and basically kept me going. This is the best group of people anywhere ever._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Twenty Nine**

**Choices**

**.**

"_Have you ever been responsible for someone else's life? Or a lot of other lives? Or an entire nation?"_

"_Of course not."_

"_Then… shut… up."_

_~ Alistair and Shale, Dragon Age Origins_

.

.

Elissa was waiting for him when he burst into the chamber upstairs, her eyes tumultuous and radiating fear. "I know," she said immediately, holding up a piece of parchment with the same ominous black seal. "I got the same one."

All fear that Alistair had been carrying for himself drained away at that declaration, and he cursed the circumstances that had prevented him from marrying Elissa before now, to secure her place as queen before the Wardens descended wielding the excuse that she _was _answerable to them. For a moment he considered dragging her to the local Chantry right then, but the coronation couldn't be rushed, and so it would do him little good.

"Did they at least bother to acknowledge your title?" he asked angrily, plucking the notice from her hand to look it over himself. It was nearly identical to his, completely lacking any deference to her rank. "Apparently they've already demoted me to Senior Warden of Ferelden. I'd say they're making their sentiments pretty clear."

She got up and began to pace, worrying away at her lip, her brow scrunched in concentration. For once, he didn't try to stop her. She thought better that way.

"Those _bastards_," she muttered irritably. "Dragging me all the way to Weisshaupt just so they could follow me back. I wonder why they didn't make a fuss about keeping me there when they had the chance…" the words dissolved into silence as the implications took hold, and for a moment she looked mildly ill. "Suddenly I'm really glad you didn't go with me after all."

"So'm I," he agreed grimly. "I think it would have been a little too easy to arrange for me to take an extended hiatus that way." He pushed an agitated hand through his hair. "The question is what are we going to do now?"

"We're going to figure a way out of this." She continued her pacing. "Okay," she said at last. "What's the first thing they're likely to do? They can't just drag us to Weisshaupt and torture us until we talk – your position offers us that much leniency. They're going to want to discredit you, not start a war. Which mean sending a diplomat, someone who's used to dealing in subterfuge."

"Which they did," he confirmed. "You've never heard of Lieutenant Commander Lucius?"

"The name sounds familiar."

"He's a bard from Orlais, and one who rose high enough in the ranks to make Leliana look like a common pickpocket. The Wardens forced the Right of Conscription after he was arrested for killing a member of the royal family, though there's always been some speculation that Celine herself ordered the hit, which is why he was let go without much fuss. He knows what he's doing."

Elissa seemed to shrink as he explained, looking more worried by the second. "Great. They sent a king killer. I feel _so _much worse about this."

He offered her a weak smile meant to reassure her. "He's a Grey Warden now, as are we. We did help to stop the Blight – I think that earns us something. And I think I can handle myself." He nudged her legs with his foot. "Keep going. You're onto something."

"Okay," she breathed with a little shake of her head, fighting to concentrate. "Like I said, they're going to have to submit to the diplomacy of the situation. A group of Orlesians showing up in Denerim is going to make the Landsmeet nervous enough. We can assume they're going to do their best to make the entire process look very official. Which would mean –"

"Witnesses," he cut in. "They'll take accounts from people who were there, to see if the stories match up."

"Not everyone," she corrected. "Not our friends. Or Arl Eamon, or anyone we're close to or have had a chance to make up a story with. He's going to want someone who has no reason to defend us, and who can gain sympathy if he decides to try to turn the Landsmeet against you…" she abruptly stopped her pacing and swore softly. "He's going to call on Anora."

It took Alistair a moment to answer. "Well, we're safe, then, right? Anora doesn't _know _anything."

She sank onto the couch. "That doesn't matter. She's too quick – she'll see the opportunity to get you deposed and pounce on it. And if this Lucius is anywhere near as cunning as you say he is, he'll know exactly what questions to ask to clue her in to what he wants to hear."

"So we get to Anora first," he said determinedly. "I'm glad now I handed her over to the Chantry instead of locking her up in Fort Drakon. I may still be able to buy her loyalty, if need be." He took a long, deep breath, thinking of what it would take to get Anora to serve as a witness for him rather than the Grey Wardens. At this point, she would be desperate to get out of the Chantry, but she could also have let her hatred spread and burn until nothing he could offer would make her side with him. He quite simply didn't know what she was capable of. Still, attempting to reason with her would be less risky then letting her sit there and wait for Lucius to tell her everything she'd be wanting to hear.

The idea of pitting himself against the Grey Wardens was so utterly foreign that part of him waited for the familiar feeling of guilt to appear at the idea. No matter how he tried to spin it, he and Elissa were guilty of desertion in almost every sense. He should feel wretched for coming up with a plan to excuse shirking in his sworn duty, but the feeling didn't come.

It didn't take him very long to figure out why.

He and Elissa _had _fulfilled their duty to the Grey Wardens. They had nearly killed themselves for over a year gathering the army, living filthy and exhausted and suffering more gaping wounds and broken bones than anyone should ever be expected to suffer and still stay sane, while the others had waited a full country away to see if they would succeed or not. And he _would _have taken that final blow and sacrificed himself – as would have Elissa. Even if they had never met Morrigan, one of them would have readily picked up that sword and killed the Archdemon anyway.

But, unlike his Brothers before him, he was given a _choice_.

How many of them would have taken the same offer?

He recalled all of the times in the first two years following the Blight that he had wished he could just abdicate – could give Anora the blasted crown she wanted so badly and fade into obscurity. Even if he and Elissa could talk their way out of this now, the Wardens were going to call him on why one of their Order was on the Ferelden throne at all, and possibly try to use Anora as the tool that would pry him out of it.

For a moment, he wondered if he wanted them to.

The answer came more quickly than he would have expected, and surprised him with the fierce protectiveness that came with it. No – it was _his _country now, and he'd be damned if he'd let anyone try to rip it to shreds with attempts to overthrow him because he took a chance and _lived_.

There was going to have to be a specific way to approach this, and it began with letting this Lucius know exactly what he thought of his threats. "I'm not answering this summons, Liss."

She bit her lip, more frightened then she let on, but her nod was firm. "I understand."

"We still need to see Avernus, and that's going to take top priority. If they want to see me so badly they can come appeal to me like everyone else. We'll need to get Anora here, as quickly and quietly as possible." He sat down next to her, reaching for a parchment to write out the message to the Chantry. "It seems we have some planning to do." He smiled a little. "And, I think I'm really going to need _your _brain for this one, Elissa."

She pushed herself up, tucking her legs beneath her to give him her full attention. "I am at your disposal, your Majesty."

-oOo-

It was nearly noon by the time Alistair and Elissa had the necessary plans they needed to set their defenses in place, and Aeryc and Morrigan were just returning to the castle. Aeryc had – and Alistair still didn't know just _how_ he did it – managed to talk the witch into learning to ride a horse, in case the need arose and there was no one else available to drag her along with them. Morrigan was not taking kindly to the lessons, grumbling more than usual after their daily trips, but she was still tolerating them, and that said more than her sour expression managed to convey.

Alistair immediately had them brought up to the chamber to break the news in private, as he expected her reaction to get downright ugly.

He wasn't wrong.

She went as still as stone, her eyes narrowing darkly on him, as though this was entirely his fault. "The Grey Wardens have never troubled us before. It's curious that they are interested now, given the company we have been in of late. How much do they know?"

"How the hell should I know?" he retorted, angry at the accusation, even though part of him knew that she was just lashing out to hide her fear. He was just as scared as she was, for Maker's sake.

Elissa spoke over him, drowning out the nasty grumble that followed. "They know _something_," she said warningly. "They might…" she dragged in a breath. "Morrigan, we have to consider the possibility that they're here for Kern."

Morrigan crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. "Then we'll leave."

"You can't," Elissa argued immediately. "If we don't solve this issue now to their satisfaction, they'll come for you." Morrigan opened her mouth to argue, but Elissa got in ahead of her, "These aren't Templars, Morrigan. You've never dealt with Grey Wardens hunting you before. They _will _find you."

"And if they do? They can't harm him."

"No, but they have the power to keep him at their mercy. They know the same sealing magic the Templars use. They'll lock him up to study him for the rest of his life." When the other woman didn't answer, Elissa pressed on ruthlessly, "Ask your son, if you don't believe me. Why do you think he's been so afraid recently?"

Morrigan was quiet for long moments before asking in a low voice, "What do you propose we do?"

"This may be a stupid question," Alistair began hesitantly, "But, have you ever considered taking him to the Circle of Magi?"

Though he was expecting her to be unhappy with the suggestion, even he was shocked by the rage in her eyes when she turned on him. He had a dispel ready without much thought, but she settled for sneering at him instead. "I had begun to believe you cared enough not to want him to ever set foot in that prison. Always a Templar, it seems."

"Morrigan, don't get all hostile and terrifying on me now. We need to figure this out. I'm just _asking_."

"Indeed. Asking to see him pent up like the other sheep, broken and taught to obey." Aeryc reached out and gently caught her arm in an unspoken plea to calm down. She shook him off. "The Chantry takes away the will for them to be what they truly are, and then holds it to their fault when a stronger being possesses them." She snorted. "'Tis truly fine logic."

"Sometimes it's a necessity…"

"Tell me something, Alistair," she interrupted coldly. "Of the mages you know, who is more likely to find themselves at the mercy of a stronger will? An obedient sheep of the tower, or an unholy apostate like myself?"

He frowned. "Fine. I'll give you that. But I'm not exactly up for starting a theological debate just now – I'm trying to keep him _safe_. If the Grey Wardens find out about him, he'll be running for the rest of his life. This way he can hide away as a regular mage."

"Better to die on his feet then live on his knees."

His own temper finally boiled over. "That's _perfect_. The part I love the most is where you make that kind of outrageous decision for a _little boy _based on your own warped issues!"

"_Hey_!" Elissa broke in sharply. "We've got a rather critical crisis closing in on us _quickly_. Could we maybe focus please?" They both fell silent, glaring at each other. "Thank you. The Circle of Magi is too closely watched by the Chantry, anyway, Alistair. The Templars will know something is different about him. Avernus is our only option."

Alistair sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Elissa, I'm _really _uncomfortable with this," he argued softly.

"I know you are," she conceded gently. "I would be, too. But we need to do something, and he knows about these things. He might even be able to tell us why I can still sense him." She gazed at him in honest sympathy. "We'll both be there, Alistair, and that little boy of yours isn't exactly helpless. Avernus won't do anything to him."

He rubbed his eyes, feeling exhausted despite the fact it was early yet. "Morrigan, what do you think?"

She looked startled. "What?"

"Your _opinion_. You know, that thing you've been shoving down our throats since the day we met you?" He shrugged. "You know what Avernus is capable of. The idea of taking Kern anywhere near him makes my skin crawl, but Elissa's right. He might be able to help. So what do you think?"

Morrigan raised an eyebrow at him, still ruffled by their brief altercation. "I never would have guessed you would resort to common sense in the face of disaster. Doesn't the notion of blood magic make you squeal uncomfortably?"

He turned to Elissa and rolled his eyes. "I think there's a 'yay' vote hidden in there somewhere."

-oOo-

Aeryc didn't know how it occurred to him to look for Alistair up on the roof that evening while the rest of the castle slept, except his base knowledge that the man had grown up in a castle much like this one, and it seemed the most obvious place a young boy would first run to when he didn't want to be found.

His instincts turned out to be correct. As soon as he shoved open the door and ascended the stairs beneath, he saw the hunched shadow in the corner. The king of Ferelden was sitting directly on the dampened stone, looking out at the sea. He seemed smaller than he had before in Aeryc's mind, his shoulders hunched and his head drooping.

"Your Majesty?" Aeryc approached him slowly, not quite sure what to make of whatever mood he was in. He'd never seen Alistair look so defeated before. "The others are looking for you."

He nodded to indicate he'd heard, but didn't turn around.

Aeryc shifted. "Elissa's worried about you."

He nodded again, taking a deep breath. "You know, I've never cared for heights," he said eventually, his voice holding just enough of its usual humor to make the pose seem that much more depressing. "I never would have admitted it as a younger man, but there you have it."

Aeryc shrugged. "There's a reason I'm standing _behind _you, your Majesty."

Alistair glanced at him, then laughed quietly beneath his breath. "A fine couple of Wardens we would have made back then. It's probably best all the griffons are gone." He reached up to rub his eyes, sighing softly. "I don't know how to _protect _them," he said suddenly. It was a statement born of despair, and Aeryc palpably felt the helplessness that plagued the younger man. "Elissa and Daniel, I can, but Morrigan…" He shook his head. "It's the only thing she's ever asked of me, you know. Well, if you don't count the whole blood magic ritual. But even then, she went to Elissa. Not me."

Aeryc thought for a moment, then sat down beside him, crossing his legs. "I'm headed out in the morning to fetch Anora, and I'm taking Thomas, Darren, and a handful of other we know hold more loyalty to Elissa then the Order with me. They're going to stay in Denerim and do all in their power to buy you more time."

Alistair looked at him, nodding slowly. "I appreciate it." He was quiet for a long time, before abruptly shaking himself. "I don't suppose this pity fest is doing anyone a jot of good, including me. I need to think. What I really need is someone with standing in court to help your people keep them distracted for a few days."

"Arl Eamon is a convincing man, your Majesty."

"Yes, but I can't trust Eamon, can I?" He shook his head in disgust. The hazel eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I know someone I _can _trust, though."

-oOo-

Wynne was sitting quietly in front of the fire, a blanket draped over her legs as she read a book with yellowing pages – Alistair thought he recognized it as one of the ones Elissa had found for her so long ago. She looked so thin and pale in the deep shadows he almost reconsidered, but her bright blue eyes found him with the same sparkle of life they always possessed. "Alistair. I didn't expect to see you there. I had thought you already retired."

"You've barely seen me at all recently," he pointed out, drawing up a chair to sit next to her. "You should come out with Elissa and I more often. Get out of the castle. The sunshine would do you good."

She laughed softly. "I don't think so. I find myself tired these days – more tired than I've been willing to admit for some time. I don't have the energy or the inclination to go gallivanting all over the countryside." She gave him a small smile. "Adventure is better spent on the young, not an old woman who would rather be in front of a comfortable fire with her books."

"You know I can't stand it when you start talking like that."

She shook her head, still smiling. "How old were you when Duncan conscripted you, Alistair?"

He had to think for a moment. Until formality finally demanded it, he hadn't even been completely certain when his birthday was, other than the fact it fell sometime in late summer. "Twentyyy… two…ish."

"Mmm. And Elissa is younger than you?"

"Not by much."

"You were children."

"I wouldn't go _that _far."

"You were. Too sheltered for your own good, bright eyed and exploring the world outside of your respective walls for the first time." She sighed. "The Blight changed you both so much, and then what came after… I used to think you were so sweet, watching you together. It truly did break my heart to see duty tear you apart. Yet I see the people you've become, both impressive adults, and it seems like in the absence of each other, you've grown into complimentary beings, like a key to a lock. I've never seen two people better suited for each other." She smiled. "I guess that's my very long way of saying that I'm content knowing I was here to see it."

Alistair inched nearer, hunched over so his elbows were on his knees, his fingers threaded as he tried to figure out how to ask this favor of her without making her worry overly much about him. "Wynne," he said slowly. "I need you to go back to Denerim. Without me." She looked at him through lowered lids, not speaking. He took a breath and plowed on ahead. "A group of Orlesian Wardens are going to arrive there looking for me. I only need you to keep them distracted, for as long as you can. They'll come here looking for me eventually, but I need time. If they question you, don't hesitate to tell them everything you know. Everything you've studied. But no matter what they tell you, _don't go anywhere _with them. Stay in the palace."

Wynne still didn't answer, gazing steadily into the fire. "My poor boy," she whispered. "What _have _you gotten yourself into this time?"

He cringed. "Trust me, please?"

She adjusted her blanket. "When do you need me to go?"

"In the morning. Aeryc and a few others will serve as your escort."

She nodded. "You'd best come back as healthy as I left you, young man."

"Yes, ma'am."

-oOo-

It was nearly a week before Aeryc returned with the cloaked and hooded figure riding behind he and Thomas. Though the others remained in Denerim as planned, only these two had known the real reason for the rush to the capital. Elissa wanted to keep the meeting as secret as possible.

Aeryc climbed down from his horse with the air of someone profoundly thankful to reach their destination, though he still went to help the woman dismount before moving to Elissa's side. He was filthy and looked utterly exhausted, testament to the hard pace there and back. "Nice company you left me," he said in an undertone. "I have even more respect for King Alistair, that he managed not to kill her in all this time."

"He doesn't have to see her much," she answered with a small smile as Anora Mac Tir Theirin pulled the hood of her soft grey cloak from her head, revealing a tidy golden braid that hung all the way down her back. The dress she wore was of simple design, but of a pleasant power-blue wool that matched her eyes, and her hands were well manicured. Elissa noted the difference between Aeryc's appearance and her own and didn't doubt that Anora had demanded he give her time to make herself presentable before this meeting, not at all willing to appear bedraggled and tired. She was looking around, curious and suspicious at the same time. Elissa was thankful to see that she seemed to be in perfect health. It would have made things much more difficult, had she been mistreated in any way.

She sighed to herself, not particularly looking forward to this meeting. "Go get some rest, Aeryc. Leave her to me."

"With pleasure," he said in relief.

Elissa stepped forward, lifting her skirts to keep them out of the mud of the yard. After careful consideration, she had decided that Anora knew and had little respect for her role as commander – a careful reminder that she was her equal in lineage wouldn't be amiss. "Lady Anora."

The blue eyes darted over her carefully, taking in her every move and giving nothing back. "Warden."

So that was how it was going to be. "If you'll follow me. I'm sure you're curious to know why we brought you here."

It took every bit of resolve she had to turn her back on the woman, but Elissa forced herself to seem perfectly at ease as she led the way through the numerous corridors until they reached the woman's quarters. As Highever had no lady with her own entourage, the rooms were set aside for Elissa's use, should she want them. Anora looked around at the beautifully furnished room and eyed her up and down before accepting the proffered cup of tea. "I'll admit, this summons was most expected. I had thought after all this time Alistair had simply forgotten my existence."

Elissa gave her a sugary smile. "I feel confident in saying you at least were aware of the Landsmeet pushing him to consider you."

She didn't answer. "I heard a rumor that he's ventured to call and Landsmeet right here in Highever. I assume an unorthodox move means there is something of importance afoot. Is finally taking the necessary steps to legitimize that son of yours?"

The casual mention was enough to make Elissa stiffen. "I wasn't aware you knew of Daniel."

"Knew of him?" Anora's eyes lit as they always did when she was filing away information for future use, should she need to call on it. "It was a secret, then? You must have been at least three months along when you left Denerim, were you not?"

Elissa sat back, coming up with a quick excuse to cover just how naïve she had been. "It wasn't my intention to advertise my condition, you understand."

"And yet it was no mystery to _some _of us," was the smooth reply. Anora wasn't buying it. "You spent half your time in Denerim hovering within reach of a chamber pot. Why else would I have made you the offer I did? Do you think I was honestly so fond of your presence and the humiliation it would bring?" She gave her a smug smile over the rim of her cup. "Come now, Warden. I think we've made the obligatory small talk. And you look rather like a wolf in sheep's clothing, sitting there so finely dressed. Why don't we get right to the point?"

"You're still haughty as hell, aren't you?" Elissa leaned forward. "Very well then. Right to the point. Without a prince to secure your place as regent, you held no right to your throne after Cailan's death. Your only tie to the royal line was him. These years have given people who were frightened and loyal to your father time to realize that. But Alistair has their loyalty now. He has an heir, and so never has to marry, if he doesn't want to. You will _never _be queen again."

"How kind of you to point all of that out so diligently for me."

"However, Alistair _is _willing to give you what should have been yours. You're the daughter of a teyrn, and Gwaren would have passed down to you, had things ended differently. Highever needs a lady. Fergus doesn't have any interest or need for the simpering dolts to choose from in court. He needs someone strong and smart who will help him rule. My father valued my mother's mind above all else about her – I promise you my brother will offer you the same respect."

Anora took another sip, but not before Elissa saw the flash of life wash through her features, and her next comment was too blasé for her not to realize she had sparked her interest considerably. "He also serves as an advisor, does he not?"

"He does. I trust that's not a problem?"

The other woman considered, not bothering to hide her suspicion. "You arranged a marriage for me once before. As it happened, it did not exactly work to my advantage."

Elissa smirked, delighting in the delicate flush that crept up Anora's cheeks. "Did you honestly believe even for a moment that I could have lived in that situation? You're not as worthy of this game as I imagined."

Anora's flush increased, though she remained calm. "I had my doubts, but it seemed the only viable option. So, am I to assume that his presence here in your family's home means that you will finally be taking the role that should be mine?"

Elissa chose not to answer, seeing no reason to give such a formidable opponent more information that was absolutely necessary. "It's a fine offer his Majesty is making you. Most would be content to leave you where you are."

The blue eyes narrowed on her. "And what makes you so trusting, to believe that I wouldn't do all in my power to see Alistair out of the way?"

"Because you wouldn't have brought it to my attention, were that your plan. Also, my brother is neither simple nor easily manipulated. If he suspected for even a moment that you were acting behind the back of his king, he would hand you over himself. You can risk it, of course – or you can take what is possibly the second highest seat in Ferelden and try to be gracious about it."

"It seems all together too simple. Alistair has no reason at all to trust me on my word."

"He doesn't have to." Elissa gave her a dangerous smile. "If you shirk in this deal, Anora – if you try your self-serving duplicity to endanger my son in any way at all, I swear by the Maker that my last act as Warden Commander will be to slit your pretty white throat."

If Anora was even a little unnerved by the threat, she hid it valiantly. But then, it was one of those things that Elissa genuinely admired about her. "You still don't mince words, I see. I can assure you, Warden, that whatever else you may think of me, it is still beyond me to order the death of a child. What is it that you need me to do?"

"Two things," Elissa replied pleasantly now that that was out of the way. "One shouldn't prick your conscious overly much. Alistair has named Fergus as his regent and ordered the dismissal of Arl Eamon, but neither can be made official until his return to Denerim. However, we can't very well trust Eamon with these proclamations, can we? And it would only seem suspicious if Fergus were to suddenly present them from nowhere should he need to. I figure if I can trust anyone to see these presented to the Landsmeet should anything happen to him, it's you."

Anora returned the smile, indulging in the one thing they had in common for a fraction of a second. If there was anyone she wanted to see deposed more than Elissa, it was Arl Eamon. "It would be my pleasure, my lady."

"I thought so. The next may seem strange, but I would ask you not to ask anymore than I can tell you, for your own safety. The Orlesian order of Grey Wardens are coming here to collect testimonies of those who were key members in fighting against the Blight. We have reason to believe they'll be calling on you as a witness. We ask only that you give them a fully honest account, as detailed as they require."

The suspicion was back, and in full force. "What makes you believe I'd be driven to be less than honest?"

Elissa gave her a knowing look. "Try to remember that the king has grounds to think you may lie out of spite alone."

"And yet I find myself curious at such abrupt generosity for something so painfully simple."

Elissa thought quickly as she leaned back in her chair, trying to think of a reason that would disguise the interest the Grey Wardens may have had in Anora's own claim. "In truth, he has considered you for this arrangement for some time. The circumstances merely prodded him into making the offer."

"I see." Anora didn't look wholly convinced, but didn't press further. "I suppose you expect me to swear public fealty?"

"Naturally."

"This would change nothing between us, Warden. I would tolerate you for the sake of keeping peace in my household, but nothing more."

Elissa sighed. "Anora, did I ever tell you that I was there when my own father died, as well?" There was no answer, but then, Elissa hadn't expected one. "I had the chance to live, and I took it. And he died."

"Is this supposed to endear you to me? Because it shan't work. My father was a hero once. He deserved better than to spill his life's blood at your feet." She rubbed her eyes. "And even if he didn't, he was my father. You cannot expect me to forgive you."

"No. I can only tell you I'd never ask you to."

-oOo-

Anora was pleased to see the room she had been given was large and comfortable – nothing so fine as she would have been offered when she had ruled as queen, but infinitely preferable to the frugal quarters she dwelled in at the Chantry.

She was less pleased to find Alistair there ahead of her, lounging in a chair, quietly enough that she started when she finally saw him. She recovered quickly, crossing her arms. "And here I thought his Majesty was above speaking to me, seeing as how he sent his watchdog to greet me."

"Betrothed."

"What?"

"I sent my _betrothed _to greet you, which is both within her rights and propriety, and in no way a snub. I thought I should let you know, in case you had any other derogatory terms you were hoping to use." He linked his fingers over his stomach, raising an eyebrow at her. "I take it Elissa didn't get the chance to tell you. I find myself in a position where I like to brag about it whenever possible, so you'll have to forgive me."

"What do you _want_?"

"I wanted to gauge your reaction, of course." He smiled when Anora could only blink at that blunt answer. "Little trick I've picked up. There's nothing that works better than seeing someone's unguarded expression when they think the room is empty."

She scowled. "And what conclusion have you reached?"

"That you hate Elissa's guts," he said merrily. "And, that you're honestly considering my offer."

She eyed him, hating the casual way he sat there in his muted finery, looking so much a king when she had been convinced he could never do it. She waited in spiteful anticipation for him to fail, to be cast down by the Landsmeet, for them to come crawling back to her and beg her to save them. Girlish dreams with no place in reality, of course, but even then, she had not expected for Alistair to become what he had. "It's worth consideration," she said vaguely, knowing deep down it was her best hope of ever seeing the outside of the Chantry again.

"It is. Fergus is a good man and a kind one as well. I think you may even be happy here, in time."

She felt her expression darken, unable to disguise it. "I had no idea you gave so much thought to paltry matters like my happiness, seeing as how you murdered my father rather than allow him to serve you."

Alistair didn't so much as flinch, but nodded slowly, and she realized he had deliberately pressed on that wound to witness her reaction and gauge the extent of her anger. She wasn't used to such tactics from him, and suddenly felt out of sorts.

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet and made to leave, but something made him pause near the door, and he looked back at her in something like sympathy. "Given his age, had we made him a Warden, and he survived both the Joining and the fight with the Archdemon, your father still could very well have been dead inside a year. It would have been slow, and it would have been painful. He would only have wasted away, weak and beyond recognition. I doubt he would have even made it to…" he stopped short, apparently having said more than he wanted to.

"And you expect me to believe that's what dictated your actions?" she demanded. "_Mercy_? You're the one who called for his execution! You refused to fight beside him. Those were your exact words, Alistair, not some sense of chivalry. It was pure _hatred _that drove you."

He flinched this time. "My regrets are of no interest to you. I'm not making excuses for myself. I'm only telling you for your own sake, since you obviously can't seem to get past it. Your father knew the rules to the game of thrones. He was strong enough in his convictions to take the risk. Tell me, which death do _you _think he would have preferred?"

"He died a _traitor_."

"He died a _warrior_," he corrected firmly. "He never could have bowed down to me after all of that, and we both knew it. He chose to end it rather than pretend." He shook his head before turning to walk away, his last comment drifting to her from the hallway just before the door closed quietly behind him. "He had that much honor left to him, in the end."


	32. Entropy

_**A/N: **Many thanks, gushes, and cookies for Mille Libre for once again coming to my rescue and making me answer the tough questions, and to RandomWittering, whose talent tied this chapter together beautifully in a lightening fast co-write that was nothing short of ridiculously awesome. _

_Longest chapter of the story right here, folks - get settled in :)_

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* * *

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**Chapter Thirty**

**Entropy**

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"_Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."_

_~ Elizabeth Stone_

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"This is _such _a bad idea." Alistair shielded his eyes with his hand to look up at the ancient tower, in such a state of severe disrepair that even from this distance he could see the missing stones and exposed wooden skeleton in places. Levi had informed them that his family preferred to avoid the area all together if possible, and Avernus apparently had no interest in maintaining it. The Dryden clan had met them on the roads, departing for their summer trades, and Elissa's relief at the news they would not be in residence was the first hint she had offered thus far that she was less than content turning to Avernus for answers, as well.

It was strangely comforting, to see that despite her arguing, she held trepidations.

After so many years doing all in his power to duck his guards whenever the chance arose, Alistair now felt strangely exposed without their hovering presence. The small group consisted only of Morrigan, Aeryc, and Kern, who clutched at his mother's hand silently as they approached the keep, looking nervously in the direction of the ominous tower.

It had taken all of Elissa's cunning to get Alistair out of Highever undetected, and he had no doubts that Maryn was a matter of hours behind them, riding hard and cursing his name to the blackest pit, but it couldn't be helped. No one could know of Alistair's consorting with the blood mage that dwelled in secrecy on top of Soldier's Peak, no matter how distant and thin his ties to him were.

Alistair hadn't returned to the keep even once since gratefully walking away from it after Avernus' cleansing ritual, but Elissa walked on confidently, having dealt often with the Drydens over the years. The family was living in rich comfort these days due to their part in rebuilding the Wardens. A matter of months after leaving Denerim Elissa had approached them about all the armory items the new Order desperately needed. The family not only took on the daunting task but earned themselves a permanent place as the armors for Vigil's Keep. Over time, Levi had gotten what he wanted more than anything else – the honor of his name was restored, this time synchronous with some of the finest smiths in Ferelden. In gratitude to Elissa, they had faithfully kept Avernus' presence a secret through the years.

Her relationship with the family made it easy for Elissa to formulate an excuse for traveling to the fortress, and most people would assume Alistair simply went with her out of a simple desire to get away from court. His tendency to occasionally slip away for a day or two without warning was not unknown. With any luck they could get their answers from Avernus and get out of there before anyone else discovered his existence.

The central keep had been gutted of all the old furnishings left behind by the group of Wardens that had once dwelled here, making it nearly unrecognizable to Alistair. The wooden floors had been replaced and polished to a warm, golden hue and colorful tapestries decorated the walls, creating an atmosphere of homey warmth that he hadn't been expecting. It left a small part of him wishing that he really had been here for a friendly visit rather than the business at hand.

Avernus' tower looked even worse in comparison as they stepped out onto the bridge, like a rotting wound left to fester at the edge of the keep. Alistair and Elissa took the lead while Aeryc fell back and trailed behind in an unspoken agreement to keep Kern safely in the center of the group.

The outer chamber that led to the grisly study within was eerily silent, heavy with the intangible sensation of having been uninhabited for some time. The books and ledgers that had lined the walls were freed from the shelves and strewn across the tables, along with bottles of ink left to dry in the open and a number of broken quills. The entire scene lay beneath a layer of dust stirred by their footsteps.

Alistair and Elissa exchanged a look. For all his faults, Avernus had always given the impression of being a careful, methodical researcher. They had never seen him regard his studies so excitedly or carelessly before, and it appeared whatever he had found had kept him locked in the inner study for a long, long time now. The idea that the blood mage had become obsessed with a new project was enough to make Alistair's discomfort increase tenfold. He laid a hand on the hilt of his sword before turning to Morrigan, muttering in a low voice. "Keep the boy back here. I don't want him to see the inside of that chamber if we can help it."

He pushed open the door cautiously, immediately greeted by a dim, sickly green light that leaked from a circle of runes etched directly into the moldy stone of the walls. Other than the runes the room was dark, and completely unoccupied.

Alistair pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside warily, drawing in a breath he wasn't sure stemmed from relief or regret. "Wonderful." He peeked around cautiously, not all together ready to rule out the possibility the creepy old man was hiding in the shadows. "The thought of a decaying old blood mage with a propensity for torturing living subjects taking a _holiday _somewhere doesn't sit well with me at all."

"I sincerely doubt he just isn't _home_. More likely he's – watch yourself." Elissa grasped his arm and pulled back to keep him from walking right into a trip wire. The green light flashed menacingly at his nearness and he quickly stepped back, allowing Elissa to kneel down to study it critically.

"Crude," she muttered with a shake of her head, pulling out her tools.

"Not really," he countered, eying one of the wards more carefully. "This is some pretty heavy artillery Avernus is packing. I'd say he's expecting company."

"What do they do?"

"Bring down the ceiling, it looks like. What do you think?" he asked Morrigan, who had cautiously stepped up behind him.

Morrigan nodded at his assessment after some thought. "He has placed them to block the entrances, it would appear. There… and there." She crossed her arms, considering. "'Tis quite ingenious, really."

"I think we can start admiring the structural prowess of a megalomaniac some other time," Alistair muttered beneath his breath. Morrigan gave him an annoyed look and snapped her fingers, smirking when he yelped at the sudden flood of light erupting from the hearth in the corner. He scowled at her low chuckle. "Very funny."

The room had changed hardly at all, containing two rickety stairways up to a raised dais near the back, as well the grotesque presence of spikes and chains along the walls, though Alistair noted in relief that the corpses and skeletons that had once littered the place were no longer there. The same disarray existed as in the last chamber; tables were weighed down with books and parchment, but also present were a dozen small vials filled with a thick red liquid that made Alistair's insides crawl. Cautiously he approached the clutter, Elissa following, uncorked one and took a whiff, his face screwing up in disgust at the rank, familiar smell. "Blood," he confirmed. "Darkspawn blood, I think."

Elissa's eyes flashed. "So he _is _doing tests on them."

"Looks that way." Without another word they split up, shifting through loose parchments and scrawled notes that were either illegible or written in an old form of the arcane that Alistair had only the barest understanding of and knew that Elissa had never studied at all. "Aeryc," he called across the room to where the Warden watched over Morrigan and Kern. "Come here and see what you can make of these."

Aeryc gave him a small, amused smile. "Very little I would imagine, my lord. I can't read."

There came the old, familiar taste of having his foot crammed in his mouth. He should have realized that. Having spent the majority of his life surrounded by the select handful of Fereldans who could indulge in the luxury, it had never occurred to him to think that Aeryc's own history wouldn't have provided the opportunity. He had learned his Templar abilities from Devin and practiced them by route alone.

Aeryc smoothly avoided what would likely have been a stammering apology with a simple nod at Morrigan. Alistair sighed, but at this point he didn't much like the idea of Kern lingering with the door at his back, either. "Morrigan, a little help, please?"

With a whisper to her son to stay close, Morrigan accepted the pile of parchments he handed her and studied them carefully.

"He's been using the darkspawn to test the effect the blood of the Archdemon might have on them," she mumbled, still reading, and so missing Elissa's look of incredulous rage. "Apparently the Peak had its own stores set aside for the Joining. How curious. I had no idea you had undergone such a ritual. The blood is powerful – more so then I daresay you realize." She handed the parchments back. "It does not mention why he would do such a foolishly dangerous thing."

"Then we keep looking."

For nearly an hour the room was silent as they searched, but Avernus had covered his tracks, offering snippets of information with no hint of how they connected to each other. With a sound of irritation Alistair snapped another book shut and threw it onto the growing pile of useless information. "Is any of this making sense to anyone?"

"Not even a little," Elissa muttered, her elbows on the table and her chin in her hand as she squinted at the pages of a large, thick tomb propped up against the other books.

Alistair sighed and idly opened the cover of a smaller book buried beneath the mess. It was a nondescript black, bound in soft leather, and didn't look like it held much promise, but he skimmed the first page regardless, relieved to have at least discovered something he could actually read.

What he found made his blood freeze in his veins, before it began pumping frantically again in icy waves that sent chills down his spine. He snatched up the journal, desperately hoping he was just seeing things, but it was all right in front of him, written in Avernus' reedy, slanting script.

"…_I was surprised to find I still had the text in my possession, considering its inaccuracies and wild speculations regarding the nature of the Taint, but in my search I found what I had been looking for, the key that I had so foolishly overlooked so many years ago in my dismissal of the tome – the ritual that would draw the soul of the god."_

The room seem to darken at the edge of his vision, and his breath came shallow and uneven as he frantically flipped through the pages, looking for just how deep Avernus' understanding of what had really happened the night before the battle of Denerim had become. The mage must have started looking for the reason Alistair and Elissa were still alive the moment the news reached him.

"…_The subjects have begun responding to the new infusion I have given them, but the results I seek have yet to be replicated. The blood instead gifts those with ties to the Fade with a discordant song that drives the darkspawn into a frenzy. More research must be done. It is my hope to test the effects on a model that demonstrates more similarities to the Archdemon itself, but it is proving difficult to keep such a subject under enchantment."_

Alistair skipped to the end of the journal, reading the last entry with his heart in his throat, his fear justified in looping black ink that damned them all.

"…_The witch knows the wilds like no other creature I have seen and proves elusive. The song that once led the darkspawn has mysteriously vanished, leaving them unorganized and temperamental. _

_I need only to find her and in doing, find him, for my studies to be complete."_

"Morrigan," Alistair gasped weakly, his mind spinning in useless circles, then louder, "_Morrigan!_"

"What?" she demanded, startled by his tone. "What are you-?"

Alistair shoved the journal into the witch's hands, terror for his son gripping him in icy talons, making his heart flutter in his chest. "He _knows_. He knows _everything_. About the ritual, about Kern, _all of it_. It looks like he's spent the past five years doing nothing but obsessing over him!"

Morrigan went perfectly still, staring at the words in fascinated horror. "But I don't understand," she protested at length, confusion and fear coloring a tone he had thought to be invincibly haughty. "How could he know so much? My mother…"

"Obviously didn't come up with the idea on her own," he interrupted grimly. "Grab him. We're getting out of here before Avernus drops down from the ceiling at us or something. Elissa…"

But Elissa didn't answer, staring at a page of the old book, her eyes glazed and her mouth hanging slightly open. "Liss," he prompted more forcefully.

Her voice was low, filled with disbelief. "He can't be Tainted."

Alistair paused, his sudden frustration with her sinking slowly beneath confusion and something else not nearly as heavy. "What did you say?" he asked, moving to her side. Elissa eagerly pointed out the passage.

"It's right here. '_Though the subject demonstrates the knowledge and memories of the great dragons, the cleansed soul is in fact a new entity in and of itself, a force of ancient magic that does not succumb to the same ties to the darkspawn the Old Ones are doomed to share.'_" When neither answered, Elissa became more animated. "Morrigan, he's safe from them! He can't become another Archdemon!"

"_That's _the replication Avernus was hunting for," Alistair said softly, looking at his son in something like wonder. "He's immune."

"We thought you might eventually come here."

Alistair spun around to see Avernus standing at the top of the stairs, his arms crossed, gazing at them with a look more curious than threatening. The telltale lines of a secret door were disappearing into the wall behind him.

Apparently Avernus _had _done a bit of redecorating.

The mage was flanked by two other men that Alistair immediately recognized as Wardens by the pull in his chest. A quick glance at Elissa told him that she didn't recognize them, either, and he shifted his weight, as subtly as he could, trying to shield Kern from their view.

"Avernus," Elissa said coolly, eying the two strangers with open distrust. "I didn't know you had begun to keep the company of anyone who was permitted to retain their innards."

"Warden Commander," he greeted flatly. "And your Majesty. I had not anticipated that you would actually come here with her." He turned back to Elissa, a man who had seen too much and lived too long to be impressed with something as paltry and shifting as royalty. "I had foolishly discredited the unremarkable group you traveled with before as little more than fodder for your work ahead. And now one of them, a Grey Warden no less, holds the throne." He fell silent for a moment, his thoughts undoubtedly on Sophia and her tragic bid for the crown. "Fate is not without a sense of humor, it seems."

"Avernus," one of the men behind him spoke with a heavy Orlesian accent. "They have the boy."

Morrigan was nearly shoulder to shoulder with Alistair in an instant, Kern shoved behind them both. Alistair felt a small hand close around his fingers and deliberately drew himself up, ready to use every advantage at his disposal to see him out of there safely. It was with an air of absolute authority that he remarked, "I'm curious as to what research is so important that your commander would risk a direct violation to the treaty between Celene and myself. No military group is to set foot into Ferelden without my express consent."

"Your Majesty, allow me to introduce Darius and Nelson," Avernus said, unimpressed by his demeanor even if the men in question squirmed uncomfortably. "There's been no violation here. The Orlesians are only funding my research, as it's beneficial to all Grey Wardens and they are aware that Ferelden has only recently fully recovered from the Blight. These two came to be in my service through other means."

Alistair looked at the two Wardens in some distaste. "So you're deserters."

Nelson turned bright red in sudden anger. "Deserters? To an Order that tricked us from the beginning? That refused to tell us the consequences of the Joining? You would dare accuse us of dishonor when they twisted us into what we are without so much as a warning?"

"What have you been doing to the darkspawn?" Elissa demanded, stepping forward with her swords drawn. Nelson immediately fell back, shooting a dark look at his companion. They would fear her more than him, Alistair realized, given her position. Aeryc was moving with her, his sword drawn and hanging non-threateningly from his hand in a loose grasp, but Alistair saw him stepping slowly to the other side of the dais, carefully flanking the two, a look of dislike for both of them etched into his features.

"The tunnels below provide a bountiful resource for test subjects," Avernus answered, still unmoved by the animosity that was gradually building. "Although of late, they seem most reluctant to comply."

"You've driven them mad," Elissa hissed through clenched teeth. "Hundreds have died thanks to you and your _research_. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't skewer you where you stand."

"And make those sacrifices completely worthless?" he countered disparagingly. "We are still on the same side, Commander. Nothing has changed, except the amount of knowledge of I have accrued since we met last. _You_ allowed me to continue my research, so long as it was done ethically. I hardly think a few hundred dead darkspawn should violate your sensibilities. If they do, I feel compelled to point out a small conflict of interest in you."

"And what of the village in Highever? Of the battle in Redcliffe?" She took a step forward, her knuckles white on the hilts of her blades and Alistair and Aeryc both shadowed her movement. "You have the blood of _my Wardens _on your head."

Alistair doubted anything else could have stopped Elissa at that moment except for the tug that heralded a new group of Wardens approaching quickly from the bridge behind them. His heart stuttered as everyone in the room looked towards the door and Kern's hold on his hand tightened. Aeryc moved, positioning himself now to defend the witch and her son.

The door burst open to reveal Thomas and Darren, followed by two other companions. They paid no heed to the men on the dais, running despite their obvious exhaustion straight for Elissa. "Commander!" Thomas stumbled forward, covered in sweat and reeking of horse sweat as well, but he kept the presence of mind to pull Elissa aside with a quick look at Avernus, speaking beneath his breath. "They're right behind us – no more than an hour."

The numerous reactions of Alistair's blood and heart to disastrous revelations were starting to make him nauseous. "Who's right behind you?"

Thomas was keeled over, his hands on his knees as he looked up at him regretfully. "The Orlesian Wardens. Wynne only just managed to warn us in enough time to beat them out of there."

"No!" For the first time since the unwelcome meeting had begun, Avernus' control cracked and shattered. "You led them right to him! The Orlesians cannot learn of the child!"

Alistair's composure abandoned him, and he whirled on Avernus. "You're the one who gave them what they wanted! Orlais hold the right to deal with violators in whatever way they deem necessary. These deserters gave the Grey Wardens what they've needed for five years – an excuse to breach my border and come after me personally!"

Avernus eyed him warily. "You have the power to stop them. To send them home." It wasn't a question, and so Alistair didn't bother to point out that it was going to be much more complicated then that. "Come – I have something to show you."

He glanced at Elissa, who nodded almost imperceptibly, before following the ancient mage up onto the raised platform. Morrigan followed as well, probably more than a little curious, but Alistair got the sudden impression she was genuinely unsettled, and hesitant of being beyond his reach. It was a strange sensation, to have such a formidable woman looking to him for protection when she had never shown any inclination of the sort, but he heeded her silent request and was careful to keep both her and Kern positioned behind him.

A codex was lying on the table, written in precise formulas and numbers that took Alistair a moment to decipher.

"This…" His eyes narrowed, hardly believing what he was seeing. "This is a cure for the Taint."

Avernus nodded excitedly. "_He_ is the key to our cure," he revealed, gesturing to Kern. "Don't you see? He is free of the Taint, immune to the death that crawls in all of us. He can heal us. I would not turn the child over to the Grey Wardens, rest assured of that. They would only take him away, and search until they found the means to destroy him. The Orlesians will never take chances when they find out what he truly is." He stepped closer, desperate and persuading. "Leave him with me while you deal with the Orlesians. His mother may remain as well. There are catacombs below, mazes and tunnels where they cannot find either of them. We want only to learn more about him. Even you cannot see the harm in that?"

Nelson came forward, his eyes pleading. "He can rid us of it, Brother. He can draw the Taint from our blood and give us back our humanity. We don't have to be Grey Wardens any longer."

For a split second, the lure called to Alistair. They couldn't hurt Kern – it was impossible. To live beyond the next twenty five years, to grow old with Elissa… maybe even to have more children, ones where he could be there through pregnancy and infancy and all the things he had missed…

"Da." Kern's voice was so quiet he barely heard him, trembling as though he were near tears as he gripped his arm. "Da, _please_ don't make me go with them."

Whatever he had seen in the minds of the men in front of him, it had terrified him. Alistair could feel him trembling. Kern's eyes were wide and wild, fixed on the dagger at Avernus' belt, which had begun to glow with a dark red light as he slithered nearer to the child. The magic that emanated from the blade was more potent than anything Alistair could ever remember feeling, a lifetime of study forging the runes that blazed with the promise of death.

The temptation of a normal life was washed under a tide of pure rage like he had never known. "You figured out how to hurt him." He could barely get the words past the hatred that swelled in him at the feel of his son cowering helplessly behind him. Alistair moved before Avernus could react, gripping him by the robes and slamming him into the wall. He yanked the loathsome dagger from Avernus' belt and held it up before the mage's frantic eyes. "What were you going to do? Bleed him?" He slammed him again, delighting when Avernus' head cracked against stone. "Kill his mother and drain him dry? Use _my son_ as some sort of sick fountain of youth?"

"Let him go!"

Darius had appeared from seemingly no where behind Elissa, now separated from her Wardens as she had begun to sprint up the steps. A dirty hand curled around her throat, a dagger held in a clenched fist just below her jaw, mere inches below her tender flesh.

"Okay," Alistair conceded quickly, dropping Avernus to a trembling heap on the stones and holding his hands up in surrender. Slowly, he moved as if to set the dagger down on the ancient little table, risking a glance at Morrigan as he did so. She was livid, nearly humming with suppressed rage as the power swelled within her, and Alistair looked into Elissa's eyes meaningfully. "Are you going to stand for that, love?"

Elissa's boot came down hard on Darius' foot the same time her elbow jammed into his stomach, and the knife fell from his grasp, clattering across the floor. Before he could recover she whirled around and punched him hard enough to drop him cold before she yelled out her warning. "_Hit the dirt_!"

Alistair dropped and dragged his son down just before the magic burst forth from Morrigan, spewing forth in a tide of fire and wrath, consuming all in its path. Avernus shrieked and fell back against the wall, fighting weakly against Nelson as the larger man kept the mage from running forward into the blaze. "No! My work!"

Alistair pressed the loathsome dagger into Morrigan's hand as she scooped up her son and ran.

Another wave of magic flooded the room, strong enough to make Alistair's skin prickle uncomfortably and he looked around frantically for its source. Avernus had activated one of the runes. The ground shook with enough ferocity to send the stone heaving, knocking them from their feet, and a roar that echoed across the mountainside erupted from the caves below.

Morrigan had gone no further than the outer chamber when Alistair heard her screech, a sound of fear and rage and frustration all tied up into a howl of despair that he had never expected to hear from the witch. Alistair scrambled up, sword in hand, stalking towards Avernus. "_What did you do_?"

"You won't take this chance away from us." The blood mage backed away, melding through a portal in the wall. "It cannot hurt the child." He looked at Elissa. "I'm sorry for this, Warden."

The ground shook again with the impact as the dragon landed hard on the bridge between them and escape, free of the enchantment Avernus had used on it and howling in fury. Its wings unfurled, blocking out the light of the sun, forked tongue hissing menacingly.

Morrigan stumbled back into the chamber, gasping as Kern clung to her, his face buried in her shoulder. Thomas ran forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Down through the tunnels! There's an exit on the mountain side – we saw it coming up. Hurry!"

Alistair stood helplessly while Morrigan pushed through the secret door in the back of the room and vanished, disappearing into darkspawn infested tunnels with his son in her grasp. Elissa moved in the opposite direction, prepared to deal with the dragon that threatened to tear the entire keep apart in its fury.

"Go!" She shouted back over her shoulder, raising her swords as her Wardens closed in like a wall, ready to fight along side her to their deaths. It was his worst nightmare closing in, the worst decision he would ever have to make, torn between protecting Elissa and protecting his son. "Alistair, _go_!"

Nearly choking on a desperate prayer, he turned and ran down the dark corridors after Morrigan.

-oOo-

The magic took Avernus to the chambers at the top of the tower where he kept his living space, a sparse group of rooms that went unheeded more often then not, as he usually fell asleep in the study, poring over his books. He slumped down in a chair to wait for his companions to join him, sure such resourceful men would have found a way to slip away in the chaos that raged below.

The tower shook from the roars and howls of the dragon as Ferelden's Grey Wardens battled as hard as they ever had been called to before. The very air was swimming with the scent of magic and smoke, shouted orders and ringing war cries filling his chamber even at this stance. There came an enormous crash, the rumbling and shaking increased, and he heard Elissa scream in agony before the last, splintered bellow of the dragon drown the sound out.

And then awful, final silence.

He hung his head for a moment, shame snaking through him at the thought that the woman who had spared him had died at his order, but it couldn't be helped. He was too close now to be stopped. The answer to the work of his entire life was coursing through the veins of a helpless child, one whose powers of regeneration could keep him alive through the trials, who would prove an endless source of components for a cure to the Taint, and to so many other magical mysteries.

No, he could not have permitted the Warden Commander to stop him.

Darius and Nelson joined him there a short time later. Avernus rose to his feet, feeling heavy and drained, every long year of his extended life weighing down on his frail shoulders. "We'll take the boy and hide in the tunnels ourselves until the Orlesians are finished here," he told them without emotion. "I will gather what we need. Wait outside. Kill anyone who may approach."

With a grim nod they took their place in the hall.

Avernus moved about the room slowly, grabbing what remained of his ruined work and a few belongings, carefully considering where they could go next to continue his study. His mind darted about the different options with cold calculation, determined to shake off the new wash of blood on his hands, to focus on a more pressing situation. It was dangerously possible he had made himself a powerful enemy this day. If the king had somehow survived, he wouldn't rest until the mage's head decorated a pike on the palace walls, and the angry young man's resources were nearly limitless due to his close connections with the rulers of every race in Ferelden. Avernus needed somewhere to take the child where no one could find them again.

If Alistair had not survived, Avernus' position was still precarious, at best.

Shoving his belongings into a satchel, he moved as quickly as his withered body would allow into the outer chamber, immediately spotting the two shadowy figures in the outer hall, standing just outside the open door.

"Come," he ordered. "We'll have to…"

His voice died away, stopped in his throat at the sudden tightness of his own heartbeat as he realized that one of the figures was female, and stalking directly towards him.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Avernus."

She was a terrifying sight, her eyes appearing to glow through a mask of blood as she stepped into the light cast by a single, lonely window at the far end of the room. A ragged wound, freshly healed by magic, tore across her brow and over her eye to her cheekbone.

Avernus had gone a long, long time without knowing fear, and even then it was not like this, an icy clenching in his bowels. Desperately he drew on the magic, but the breech of the Fade stubbornly refused to open to him. He stared at the indistinct figure beside her that he had not bothered to examine before in growing horror.

_A Templar_.

"Darius!" he backed up until he stumbled over his desk, trying to get away from her. "Nelson!"

Elissa grabbed him by the throat and slammed him onto the surface, her voice terrifyingly calm. "They're not coming."

She dragged him up by the collar of his robes and shoved him down into the chair, her hand painfully tight on his shoulder, and her sword held menacingly. His journal, smoldering at the edges but otherwise unharmed, fell before him with a dull thud. "You're going to write down what I tell you to write down, and you're going to do it _now_."

-oOo-

The darkspawn corpses smoldered, filling the tight tunnels with the stench of burning flesh. Alistair pushed himself faster, wincing at the minor wounds he had taken fighting through the handful of monsters that had somehow avoided Morrigan's wrath. It hadn't been lost on him that Morrigan's magic wasn't what it once was in all the weeks he had spent in her company, and he feared now that she had overexerted it and left herself defenseless.

He finally found them in a black corridor of the lower levels, lit only by a globe of silvery magic that Kern held in an outstretched palm. Morrigan could barely stand, looking weak and somehow frail for the first time since Alistair had met her. She leaned helplessly against the locked door, her arm around Kern as he clutched her legs, biting his lip.

He saw Alistair first. "Da!"

Kern barreled towards him, throwing himself into Alistair's arms before bursting into tears. The light remained, floating around and over him. Morrigan whirled around, rage burning in her eyes, defiant as she leaned against the door, helpless, drained and powerless, yet fiercely watching her child like a feral cat, her lips pulled back in a sneer as she prepared to die defending the boy.

"It's just me," Alistair gasped, trying to catch his breath around Kern's strangle hold on him and against the flood of relief at finding them alive. Morrigan's stance barley softened, and he narrowed his eyes on her. "If you suggest for one second that I would have let anything happen to him even to protect Elissa I may very well kill you myself."

Understanding dawned on the witch's face as Alistair set Kern down before stepping back to kick the door in. The resulting crash was met with a chorus of howling from the depths below, and the Taint in his blood woke at the sound, churning in response to the unseen threat. He glanced at Morrigan, a look of grim understanding passing between them, though his words were for Kern. "It's okay," he said softly, running his hand through the boy's ebony locks. "I'm going to get you out of here. You stay with your mother and behind me, no matter what happens. Can you do that?"

He nodded, sniffing back his tears. Morrigan gazed at Alistair curiously a moment longer before dropping to her knee before the boy. "Listen, Child," she said more gently than Alistair would have thought possible. "This is not play. 'Tis not practice. I have no magic. You must do everything in your power to keep him alive."

-oOo-

Avernus' hand was shaking as he filled out the ordered conclusion to his journal. He hunched over the table and the pages, a dejected, broken figure afraid to make so much as a noise under Elissa's hostile scrutiny. Her hand clutched her sword hilt so tightly her knuckles pulsed with the pain of it, revulsion filling her while she waited for the blood mage to finish.

Aeryc paced in front of the solitary window, casting anxious glances at the courtyard and grounds below. "I don't see any sign of them."

Elissa forcefully shoved down the fear that was gnawing at her insides beneath the rage, more desperate to hear that Alistair was free of the tunnels and safe than she ever had been for anything before. She couldn't do this without him – not now. "Alistair will get them out of here before the others can find him," she said, resolute in her desperation to make herself believe it.

Aeryc leaned out the window, looking at the distant horizon, at the mountains and valleys and rivers that spread out before them. "Elissa…" He turned back to her, and she could see it in his soft brown eyes, even before he said it. "Alistair can't protect them anymore. They're all alone."

Elissa had known grief so many times, but never had she felt the pain she did at that simple declaration. It was as if she could physically feel a part of her heart breaking away from the rest, but rather than the bleeding wound left behind by other losses that had plagued her, the piece was light and free, and willingly given back to the man who had given her so much. She nodded in understanding. "Go, then," she said quietly, determined not to cry lest it make him change his mind. "Hurry, Aeryc – you haven't got much time."

He nodded, looking her over for a long, slow moment, before he was gone, slipping out of Elissa's life before the Orlesian Grey Wardens would ever know he was missing.

-oOo-

The broken, splintered barricade that kept travelers from wandering into the ancient mine gave way at his push, and Alistair stumbled out into welcome sunlight before falling to his knees, breathing heavily. Blood ran freely down his arm from a deep wound given to him by a particularly feisty hurlock. He felt Kern's hand on his shoulder before the tingle of healing magic filled him once again, rejuvenating his flagging strength. He glanced up into the solemn yellow eyes and gave him a tired smile. "You're a wonder, you are." He earned a bashful smile in return.

Alistair struggled to his feet and waited until Kern had treated his mother to the same before he reached down and helped her to her feet. "Keep to the woods," he said quietly, unhooking a pouch from his belt, heavy with coin, and passed it over to her. "Shift as soon as you have the strength. I'll keep the Wardens occupied for as long as I can, but they may still come looking for you."

Morrigan opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of hooves pulled her eyes towards the trees, and Alistair whirled around, his sword drawn, to see Aeryc riding towards them, leading another horse by the reins.

He immediately read the other man's intention, and bittersweet gratitude filled him, nearly collapsing him where he stood. He hurriedly dropped to one knee to look his son in the eye. "I want you to go with Aeryc," he said softly. "He'll keep you safe for me, and make sure they never, _ever _find you." His mother's amulet felt heavy around his neck, and quickly he reached back and unhooked the clasp, slipping the necklace around the boy's neck. "You remember what I told you, about why I kept this?"

Kern nodded, his eyes shimmering, and stepped forward to hug him tightly. Alistair's throat tightened. "It's okay," he murmured, though he didn't feel it at all. He reluctantly released the child, handing him over to his mother.

Wearily, Alistair struggled to his feet and faced Morrigan, uncertain of what to say. To his astonishment, she wrapped her arms around his neck in an uncomfortable embrace, her only way of saying good-bye to someone who shared nothing with her except their most precious possession. "Tell Elissa…" he could hear the catch in her throat, and she swallowed loudly. "Tell her that I'm sorry," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm _so_ sorry."

He stared, breathless at the look in her eyes, pleading with _him_, not Elissa, to forgive her. He wanted to tell her that he had a long time ago, but Morrigan wouldn't have appreciated it. "I will," he said instead, glancing towards the trees. "They're coming – get out of here."

He lifted Kern and set him in front of Aeryc, asking one last thing of the man who had become a friend in so short a time. "Take care of him…of them… for me."

"With my life, your Majesty," Aeryc promised quietly before tucking the child more securely in his hold and galloping into the woods, Morrigan following behind him.

-oOo-

Avernus waited anxiously as Elissa flipped through the remaining pages, studying his forced conclusion. He could feel his magic trickling back in slow degrees, but it was no where near the amount it would take to put down the formidable Warden.

Her calm was beginning to terrify him. She paced idly back and forth, reading carefully, her sword still in her hand and dangling from her grasp. Finally she nodded in satisfaction and snapped the book shut, tucking it away in her belt.

"This will do, I think. Take heart, Avernus. You helped to save an innocent life today with this. He's just a little boy, you know," she said pointedly, looking at him hard. "Maybe you might have earned some degree of redemption, in helping me to save him."

He had little care for such sentimental drivel when she was standing so close to him with that wicked blade, stained with the blood of countless others, gleaming in the muted sunlight. His magic continued to build, and he drew on it desperately, stalling to buy him the time it would need to end her for good.

"What do you plan to do now, Warden?"

She regarded him with cool green eyes, utterly free of any hint of emotion. "I'm going to fix an old mistake," she said quietly, and he saw his death shining in her eyes just before her blade slid through him.

-oOo-

Alistair caught the sight of the telltale cloud of dust on the road as he ran back to the keep. With a curse he raced through the halls and up the stairs to Avernus' study. The dragon was gone, its corpse clearly visible against the razor sharp rocks below, its blood running in rivulets on the stones to the bridge, making them slick and treacherous beneath his feet as he raced to find Elissa.

She was sitting on the steps to the dais, her knees to her chest and her head lowered, her fingers linked behind her head with her Grey Wardens standing around her.

"Liss!" Alistair came pounding into the chamber and shoved through them to reach her. He felt himself shaking as his hands framed her face to lift her eyes to him, noting the ghastly scar and the hasty bandage that covered her right eye. She seemed dazed, her eyes cloudy and uncertain as she looked up at him. "Elissa?"

She pulled out the journal and handed it to him almost dreamily. "I saved it. It has everything you need."

Alistair took the book but didn't bother to look at it, his worry increasing. With concern bright in his eyes he turned to the other Wardens in the room. "Hurry – they're coming. Burn it – burn _all _of it," he ordered.

The others immediately jumped into action, gathering up what was left of the papers that contained Avernus' research and throwing them into the hearth. Alistair's only thoughts were for Elissa. "Elissa, what's wrong?"

The doors suddenly slammed open.

The Orlesian Wardens were both heavily armed and fully armored, led by a man who Alistair immediately took to be Lieutenant Commander Lucius. He was several years older than Alistair, by the look of it, with long black hair tied back at the nape of his neck and piercing grey eyes that shone with a keen intelligence.

Elissa slowly got to her feet and deliberately moved so she was standing to Alistair's left, her good eye darting about frantically, her head turned slightly, though he knew she watched the newcomers. Her hand reached between them, groping for his fingers, and gave them a small squeeze in a silent plea to stay where he was.

Thomas discreetly moved to his other side, muttering out of the side of his mouth. "She's been blinded on her right side. Don't let them know."

It took all of his willpower not to immediately turn his back on the intruding foreigners and see to Elissa. Grief, fresh and bitter, welled up in him in a tangle of guilt, that he had left her to fight alone.

Elissa seemed to sense the turn his thoughts had taken and squeezed his fingers again, warning him to keep calm.

Lucius marched right up to Alistair, eying him carefully for just a second more briefly than would have been deemed challenging, but though he did not kneel, owing no fealty to Ferelden or its king, he dropped into a low, graceful bow, as did the others with him. "Your Majesty." He straightened, his eyes searching the crowd of Wardens. "Your people told us you had business to see to here. We thought to meet you on the road and save you some time."

The bald faced lie was so smoothly delivered Alistair noted just how dangerous the man truly was. "Indeed. Well as you can see, my business here is concluded. It worked out nicely for you."

Lucius regarded him seriously, unsure how to respond. "It seemed we missed a matter of some excitement."

"Avernus is dead," Elissa said bluntly, drawing all eyes to her. "He had gone mad in his quest to find his answers and tried to kill us all. He very nearly succeeded."

Lucius nodded slowly and for a moment his eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine respect. "Yes, we saw the dragon in the crags below." He paused again, debating over this new development. "He was a fool if he thought to do away with the one responsible for slaying the Archdemon with a lesser creature."

Elissa snorted.

Lucius looked over the crowd again, more carefully. "And where is Lieutenant Commander Aeryc? The last we had heard he was still in your company."

"My Lieutenant was killed in the attack outside of Redcliffe," Elissa said quietly, and her grief at losing Aeryc was enough to make the lie completely convincing. "Warden Thomas has since assumed his role."

Thomas took the news of his unexpected promotion brilliantly, simply nodding in recognition.

Lucius hesitated. "Our condolences then, Sister," he said, sounding perfectly sincere. "We hadn't received the news."

Elissa nodded her thanks and looked at Alistair uncomfortably.

He quickly took up his cue. "Lieutenant Commander, I think we've all had a very long day. Let's just get right to it, if you don't mind. You're in Ferelden without formal invitation or advance notice. What exactly is it you want?"

Lucius raised his eyebrows at such forwardness. "As you insist, your Majesty. I am here on the behalf of the First Warden, with questions regarding the death of the Archdemon, pertaining specifically to how you and the Warden Commander both managed to survive, while an honored veteran of our Order fell."

Alistair kept his calm with some effort, realizing it dangerous to show even a hint of either temper or nerves. He had never considered how Riordan's death would effect the situation. Of course the Orlesians weren't content to let them get away with vague answers and claims of ignorance. "You've had more than enough time to study the report we sent after the Blight," he answered carefully. "And Commander Elissa has made the journey to Weisshaupt personally. What more can we tell you?"

Lucius eyes narrowed. "The truth?"

Alistair stiffened at the derisive response, as did the Ferelden Grey Wardens. He heard the clinking of metal as five warriors drew to full attention and hands immediately went to rest on their swords.

Lucius was quick to put his hands up in a placating gesture, taking a deep breath. "Your Majesty," he said reasonably. "You have to appreciate my position. We have no intention of starting an uprising against us in Ferelden, but you _are_ wanted for questioning as Grey Warden. I respectfully request your cooperation." He glanced at Elissa, then back at him. "You owe us that much, at least, Brother."

-oOo-

Things could be worse.

Or at least that's what he kept telling himself.

Alistair watched from where he leaned against the windowsill as Thomas quietly gathered his supplies, packing them away with some care, looking anxious and unhappy. He felt his heart sinking in his chest at the expression the mage wore.

Alistair and Elissa had been put in the nicest chamber Soldier's Peak had to offer to rest after their ordeal before the questioning began, and Thomas was sent immediately to tend to his Commander. He did so despite his exhaustion, after riding like a bat out of hell to reach them in time, and then the fight with the dragon. Alistair saw his eyes were bloodshot and bleary and stepped forward quietly.

Thomas started a bit at the movement. "My apologies, your Majesty. I seem to be a little…"

"Get some sleep," Alistair interrupted quietly. "You've done more than enough, Thomas."

He looked up at him with sorrow filled eyes. "She'll need a lot of rest. I was able to make the eye appear mostly unharmed, but…"

"I understand," he assured him against the tightness in his throat. "Go and rest, Thomas. You need it." He gave him a weak ghost of a smile. "Elissa's pretty hard on her Lieutenant Commanders."

The mage nodded and took his quiet leave, and Alistair sat on the edge of the bed with a long sigh. He was surprised to find Elissa awake, curled up on her side, apparently waiting for Thomas to leave before she rolled over, facing him. Alistair saw the thin white slash across the gorgeous green, and the words spilled out of him. "I'm so sorry, my love."

She looked up at him, forcing out a watery smile that broke his heart to see. "It's not so bad. I still have one good eye, and Thomas said that in time more of my vision has a chance to return." She looked up at his face and sighed at the expression he wore, moving onto her back to see him more clearly. "I think fighting four dragons in five years was pushing anyone's luck, Alistair."

If Alistair could have killed Avernus again, he would have.

He fell silent, listening to the voices outside his chamber door. Maryn had caught up at last, which helped to keep Lucius and his lot in their place, but Alistair knew that despite the presence of his guards and the friendly demeanor of the Orlesians, they were being watched. Should he try to leave, things would likely get ugly.

Not that he planned to try, with Elissa injured as she was.

She struggled to sit up, ignoring his sound of protest, and took a moment to steady herself before looking at him anxiously. "You've barely said a word for hours."

He reached up and brushed her cheek. "You know me. Never been much of a talker."

She moved nearer, her brows drawn together in real worry. "Are you okay?"

His vision went strangely blurry and he wiped at his eyes impatiently. "I'm just tired, I think. And I'm sorry about Aeryc."

She smiled tremulously at the evasion, her eyes glistening. "Alistair, stop. I'm more worried about you."

Elissa slipped her arms around him, and he rested his lips against her shoulder, clutching her, unable to put the tumult he was feeling into words.

"He'll be safe this way, won't he?" Even he could hear the pleading in his voice, and Elissa held him tighter. "Aeryc can feel them coming. He'll be able to keep him from them."

"We'll find him," she murmured. "I promise. I promise we'll find him."

He didn't even realize he was crying until he felt Elissa trembling as she wept softly against the curve of his neck, and he gripped her tighter, burying his face in her hair, and gave into the painful, choking sobs of a man who's all but forgotten how to shed tears.


	33. Two to Go

**Chapter Thirty One**

**Two to Go**

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"_Be yourself, don't take anyone's shit, and never let them take you alive."_

_~Gerard Way_

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There were very few times in her life Anora could remember being genuinely afraid, and much to her chagrin, they all seemed to involve Grey Wardens.

Every fiber of her being had screamed out to refuse to follow the Wardens sent to escort her from Highever to Soldier's Peak, but a warning look from Fergus had stayed her tongue. _His _primary concern was to ensure that Daniel stayed safely within the walls of Highever Castle, and Anora's sole purpose for being there was to make that easier for him to accomplish.

Anora knew next to nothing about Fergus, having dealt with Bryce more often on the rare occasions the Couslands were in court. Since the Landsmeet that had altered her life, she had seen him only rarely, and spoken to him even less. On occasion his business in Denerim brought him to the Chantry, and he was gentlemen enough to exchange a few pleasant words if she happened to cross his path, but no more than that. She had always found him cordial and even charming for a man who lacked any of the practiced silkiness of a regular courtier, but she sincerely doubted his oblivious kind of friendliness towards her would keep him from wringing her neck should she do anything to risk endangering his precious nephew. She most certainly wasn't going to try to manipulate her way out of the situation, either. For all his good humor, she didn't doubt that Fergus Cousland was a dangerous man if provoked.

And so she did the only thing she could do, and walked proudly out behind the group of armored Orlesians, determined not to let them see her fear. They were cordial enough to her, even carrying her traveling pack, but still Anora could not help but wonder how she had managed to get herself into this position.

A whispered reassurance from her potential intended was both unexpected and surprisingly welcome.

Fergus accompanied her to the stables, making a show of helping her to mount a gentle grey palfrey. "They need you," he murmured beneath his breath while the Wardens looked on. "And Orlais is well aware that to refuse a man his honor guard in Ferelden is an insult to him. You'll have five of my own men with you for the journey." His expression was unusually gentle. "You won't come to harm for your assistance in this, my lady – you have my personal promise."

Anora nodded, too aware of their audience for her to respond, but her eyes silently thanked him all the same.

She still hadn't truly decided how she was going to respond to this interview. The gathering Landsmeet in Highever had been almost pathetically ready to believe that the king was in Soldier's Peak meeting with the foreign Wardens to discuss the tragedies that had befallen Redcliffe and Highever this year, and so thought nothing of his sudden disappearance.

She was less sure.

Rumors that he had barely been seen by anyone while there were beginning to prey on her mind, and she only shook her head at the naïveté of the nobility for bawdily passing off the concerning news with excuses that he had just managed to get himself betrothed, hadn't he? If he wanted to scamper off to a less crowded dun for a spell, he had certainly earned a bit of privacy.

Their sheer stupidity in having such blind faith in him infuriated her at times. But then, she reminded herself, they hadn't been privy to the information handed to her by the king's courtesan; he had managed to land himself in some sort of trouble. Though she was minded to agree, no matter how reluctantly, that the offer Alistair had made her was more than she had ever expected to have again, a lingering doubt of his true intentions whispered in her mind, strengthened by the chance that the King of Ferelden was allowing these foreigners to hold him _hostage_.

She would never stand for him, were that the case.

She held her tongue throughout the journey, regardless, paying no heed to the unpolished hints her escorts dropped, trying to discern where her loyalties lay. She was not minded to rush into a decision either way, and she held out on the one fact she knew of this situation to be absolutely certain: Elissa was pulling the strings somewhere, and despite her many other flaws, she was no fool.

Anora legitimately had no idea what Alistair saw in Elissa. He was compassionate to the point of foolishness, whereas all she had ever seen of Elissa was a woman who was cold and fearless, utterly lacking in any sense of mercy. Though admittedly lovely, the Warden had always struck her as being a prickly, demanding sort. While Anora had not expected Alistair to be overly pleased when she made the offer of marriage, she had thought he would at least be agreeable. After all, she was nice looking, and intelligent, and could not come off as nearly as cold as Elissa. She was willing to let the woman stay for the sake of the child she carried, which was more than reasonable.

She had certainly not expected him to be _horrified _by the idea.

The only feasible reason she could think that he would follow her so loyally was that Elissa had managed to slip between his sheets before Anora knew that he existed, and he was exactly the sort to fall in love with the first woman who came along.

Oh, the twists of fate.

She was greeted upon her arrival by a cool looking man who immediately introduced himself as Lieutenant Commander Lucius. Anora just managed to disguise the stiffening of her spine at the name, very familiar with the Warden's past and what the implications might have meant for Alistair. He gave her almost no time to consider, leading her upstairs to a heavy door guarded by the King's Own.

Alistair and Elissa were both within, seated in front of the hearth and apparently deep in conversation.

_Brilliant,_ she thought to herself with detached disparagement as Lucius announced his intention to get this interview over with as quickly as possible. _Put them together. I'm sure they weren't plotting in the slightest_. If Lucius seemed well spoken and intelligent, it apparently was not a prerequisite for the rest of the Order.

The Wardens filled the room, one of them actually daring so far as to reach out and grab Elissa's arm as if to haul her away.

She handled the demeaning misstep on their part with her usual grace.

"I said I would come," she snapped, freeing herself with a twist of her arm. "Keep your fucking hands off me."

One of the elder Wardens present stepped alongside Lucius, speaking in a whisper. "I don't trust them together." He spoke in Orlesian, apparently oblivious to the fact that Anora was fluent in the language – a detail she was surprised they had overlooked. "Will he cooperate if she's there to guide his answers?"

"No." Lucius looked at Elissa carefully, and Anora could see the plan formulating behind his eyes. "We only need one. Keep her locked her up until we can get to the bottom of this." Aloud, he said, "With respect, Warden Commander Elissa has already given her testimony of this matter." Alistair and Elissa's faces darkened simultaneously, not falling for the flowery excuse for even a moment. "We need only to speak to his Majesty, if it pleases you."

She saw Alistair struggle briefly with the decision, no doubt wondering just how compliant to appear. The King's Own stood just outside, and would come in and take control of the situation with nothing more than a muttered word from him. It would do little to further his own interests, however, when Anora doubted he wanted anything quite as badly as for these men to be gone and out of his life. He struggled a bit longer against his base instinct to protect before seeming to come to a conclusion.

Alistair glanced over at his intended bride, his eyes deep with meaning. It had always played her last nerve, the way these two seemed to be able to communicate silently, and though she truly didn't want Lucius taking charge of the situation, she had to admire that he saw it, too. They exchanged a look that Anora read as plain as black words on a page.

_Trust me_.

Elissa nodded and allowed herself to be left behind. Anora scowled, disliking the way he handed the control over to Lucius, until they reached the hallway. His departing order left her slightly appeased.

"Maryn, stay with Elissa," he said in a low voice. "If she looks so much as a little unnerved, kill the lot of them."

"As you command, your Majesty."

-oOo-

She was being led deeper into the maze of corridors and chambers that made up Soldier's Peak. Lucius was no where to be seen, and Anora had already determined that the two men who walked ahead of them only spoke a smattering of Fereldish. She risked leaning over towards Alistair, hissing, "When I agreed to this, I didn't realize it meant I was going to be reliant on your rescue once again."

"Don't worry, I've got this."

"You've _got_ this? I'm supposed to draw comfort from the off chance that you actually have a feasible plan that isn't going to land me back in prison?"

"Would you just trust me?"

"That's got to be the most ridiculous request I've ever heard in my life. At least _you_ gave me decent accommodations. These men look completely capable of throwing me into Fort Drakon and forgetting I exist."

"And why would they, with that winning personality of yours?"

"_Me_? Tell me something, Alistair, is it everyone you meet that either tries to arrest or execute you, or do you have to speak first?"

"Oh shut up, Anora."

They were led to a small room that appeared to serve as an office, though Anora was not familiar enough with Soldier's Peak to determine who it belonged to. Alistair looked at the set up with an irritated kind of amusement. "Wow. He's certainly got a pair, hasn't he?"

The room was large and comfortable, but Alistair's assessment certainly seemed true enough. A large desk sat at the far end, with two chairs waiting for them on one side, and a single seat behind it. He shook his head and took the single chair behind the desk, before considering and reaching over to drag another chair out of place.

He regard of her position was enough to startle her into asking, "What are you doing?"

He glanced at her and pulled the second chair around so it sat more beside the desk then in front of it. "How badly do _you_ want to sit there like children being reprimanded? You're with me in this, last I checked. It wouldn't hurt to remind him of that."

Anora's eyes narrowed. "You can drop the condescending tone. I was dealing with Orlais while you were still scrubbing pots at the Chantry."

"Something you're not likely to ever allow me to forget. I'm sure you've figured out by now that we're _both _in a delicate situation, and your position is far more precarious than mine. Seeing as how I'm at least partially responsible for you being here, I'd like to get us both out of it alive. Cooperation would be most appreciated."

She shifted, taken aback that he was concerned for her. It made her wonder how justified her fears that he was being forced to submit to his mysterious Order really were. "I take it your sudden evasiveness wasn't caused by a premature honeymoon then?" she asked dryly.

That brought his hazel eyes barreling back to her. "Is _that _what they're saying?" He considered, then shrugged. "Well, that should make do to get rid of the other rumor floating around about me. I didn't feel very comfortable at the way Arl Ladmar was eyeballing me in Highever anyway."

Anora made a sound of aggravation. "Could you be serious for one instant? I have a right to know what's going on, _especially_ regarding how much power these Wardens have over you."

He stopped and looked at her in some surprise before the truth of her trepidation seemed to hit him, and he sighed, a sound that carried a note of pity and immediately provoked her defenses. "Elissa was injured," he said finally. "Badly. My place was at her side. Her second in command is gone. With the Orlesians here, I didn't think it best for all of Ferelden to know how crippled their own Order has recently become." He looked over her with a hint of annoyance. "You really thought they were holding me captive, didn't you?"

She wasn't going to answer _that_. "How was she…?"

"Shh!"

Anora had no doubt it was a well planned entrance, deliberately late to assert just how little Alistair's position meant to the Order. Apparently, it wasn't lost on him, either, to judge by the dark expression he wore.

Lucius paused for only a fraction of a second at the altered seating arrangement before taking the seat beside her, and addressed her first. "Forgive the summons, my dear lady. I realize we rushed you here, but I'm sure you are eager to return to your own matters, as his Majesty must be anxious to return to his court. We want to be through this matter as quickly as possible."

Anora smiled, but she wasn't fooled by the play being acted out for her benefit. This Orlesian wanted something from her, and was going to great lengths to carefully plan his every move, angling to win her favor. Her mind was already churning, traveling down numerous paths and winding through every conceivable possibility of escape, but she was not experienced in dealing with an organization in which she had nothing to offer, no available means of persuasion. The Grey Wardens wanted nothing, fully self reliant and above petty bribes.

No, she was going to have to trust the bastard king to get her out of this.

"You seemed unusually interested in making sure the Warden Commander wasn't invited," Alistair commented, his tone light despite the hardness in his eyes.

"Because she's been so helpful during previous interviews?" Lucius shook his head. "No, we thought we might get further dealing with you."

Alistair, laughed, a thoroughly unhappy sound, running a hand over his face. He looked more tired than Anora had ever seen him, dark circles around his eyes making him appear years older than he had only days ago. "I've been playing these word games for some time now, you know. Kind of comes with the territory. Just say it. You're trying to turn her into a hostage to ensure my cooperation."

"I prefer to think of it as incentive." Lucius sat forward, tapping his fingers against the stack of parchments he carried, full of neat, precise handwriting Anora took to be his notes. "We are not monsters, Brother. Warden Commander Elissa has served our Order diligently. But we have to have answers. There's more at stake here then the life of one girl."

Alistair looked briefly furious, but it passed so quickly she wasn't certain Lucius had seen it. "Let me make this very clear. I'll cooperate for the sake of the Order and its safety despite your method of leaping straight to the threats in these dealings so far, but Elissa is irrelevant, as far as you're concerned. Unless you want to be making the trip back to Orlais alone."

Lucius' eyes flicked over him curiously. "It seems I'm not the only one who leaps right to the threats, your Majesty."

"Oh, it's not a threat. Lieutenant."

Tense moments passed in which Anora found herself holding her breath, until finally Lucius turned to the guards standing at the door and made a gesture with his hand, eying Alistair warily. She breathed easier when the men disappeared. She knew that Alistair was more than capable of risking his relationship with Orlais for the sake of that woman.

"Let me tell you how it looks to the council, your Majesty," Lucius continued once they were gone. "We knew of the Blight in Ferelden. Shortly before reaching your lands, we heard of the massacre at Ostagar, but miraculously, the two of you survived, reportedly rescued by Flemeth, a powerful witch of unknown origin. The next thing we knew, all Grey Wardens are stopped at the borders, barred entry, you two are dealing in secret with the country's leaders; the only Orlesian that manages to make his way here is supposedly killed in the line of duty when the Archdemon dies, and yet you both live. And then…" he smiled, and it reminded Anora of cat on the hunt. "You are made king."

Alistair shook his head, a small, rueful smile on his face. "I have to admit, I've never looked at it from that angle."

"Undoubtedly. There are simply too many questions surrounding Elissa Cousland. Almost no records of her exist after Duncan's conscription, save for wild tales told among the populace…"

"They're not _wild_," Alistair snapped, out of patience. "Elissa did everything they claimed she did."

Lucius wasn't impressed by the interruption. "It's imperative that we get a solid account from someone who is less biased. Lady Anora, I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation."

Anora took a deep breath. "I know nothing of any of this," she said, putting as much cool haughtiness in her tone as she could muster. "I've never had anything to do with Ferelden's Grey Wardens, aside from their brief stay in Denerim during the Blight."

"It was said that you met with Elissa frequently during that time."

"I did," Anora didn't resist the urge to glare at Alistair, as it benefited her predicament in this case. "That was a political situation. It had nothing at all to do with the Blight."

"What situation?"

She swallowed against the rising shame. "I proposed an arranged marriage to King Alistair in order to keep my throne."

"I see. And to what result?"

Her eyes narrowed on him. "I was turned down. I would have thought that quite obvious," she remarked coolly, internally daring Alistair to dispute that slightly skewed account. He didn't bother, apparently willing to let her salvage some of her pride during this humiliation.

"I understand you spoke against your father at the Landsmeet."

"Yes," she answered, and rapidly her brain produced a less embarrassing reason, which would also hopefully shed her in a better light to this man. "Regardless of my relationship with the Warden – your pardon, I mean Elissa – my father had let himself be led astray by ambitious men who poisoned his ear. He let the war begin, and he kept your Order from coming to our aid. I had to do what I could to stop him."

Alistair said nothing, though the glance he gave her when Lucius looked down to scribble a few notes was just short of an eye roll.

Lucius raised his eyes back to Alistair, an iciness that Anora didn't quite understand filling his grey eyes. "You had to know that the council would be leery of your position. Would you be willing to step down?"

Alistair's eyes flashed. "No."

Lucius leaned back in his chair, studying him. "We could order it of you."

"You don't have that kind of power."

"It is a Grey Warden's duty to remain neutral in politics."

So _that's _why the Grey Wardens had summoned her, why Elissa had gone to such effort to buy her honesty. Alistair wasn't supposed to be on his throne at all.

How _conveniently _that Cousland _hussy _had forgotten to mention that part.

Alistair had never looked more impressive as he glared at the foreigner. "A Grey Warden's duty, his _only _duty, is to _stop the Blight_. This country was torn up by civil war. The bannorn was too busy trying to kill each other to lend aid and the darkspawn were given free reign of Ferelden. We had to unite under a single ruler."

"And yet it seems to be a safe assumption that you and the Commander are involved again. How will that look, to have a family of Grey Wardens ruling a country?"

"If you force me to step down, you're starting another war. With me deposed, my son's claim suddenly becomes nothing stronger than another thing for the nobility to squabble over. Every other claimant to the throne is so weak it could drag on for centuries, and Fereldans won't be quick to forget Orlais' hand in putting them in that state. Words like 'Grey Warden matters' won't make the slightest difference to them while their sons are dragged off to serve the local lord. And for what?" He shook his head. "Elissa and I will only hold the throne for twenty five measly years, at best, and then no more Warden King. It's not like I'm handing the seat over to the Order."

"It would seem to me there's a viable solution sitting right beside you."

Alistair didn't even look at her, just slowly closed his eyes and swore beneath his breath.

Anora had ever been a quick thinker, and now was no different. Her time in the Chantry had, if nothing else, given her the time to pore over every mistake she had made that got her sent there. Lucius was all but offering her international support if she attempted another bid. She was not nearly as emotional as Alistair, and he had already made it clear that certain things would always come before the good of Ferelden in his mind.

She had never thought that Alistair was what was best for Ferelden, but…

The young man had proven himself a capable and caring monarch. He had done what was asked of him out of nothing more then his sense of duty, but in that time had risen to be more than she could have imagined. Her father had once acted against his king, under the guise of what was best for his country.

What he believed was best had broken the line and plunged them all into war. The Blight had almost swallowed them whole. Losing Alistair would be Cailan's death all over again, only this time, they stood to lose more. And this _Orlesian _was the one pulling the strings.

It was the first rule she had learned as a child – never trust Orlais.

Anora was loyal, she was angry, but she had never been stupid. She had the option of making another bid at a throne she had lived without for years, and possibly losing, leaving Ferelden vulnerable to attack. She could wind up in a worse prison than before, if not executed. Or, she could take the offer made and get something of her life back, again be a woman with a voice, and possibly even earn the favor of the one person who sat above her in Ferelden in the process.

"I no longer have a claim." Despite her resolve, she had to fight to get the words out. "Not after all this time. I would be able to solve nothing but serve as yet another candidate for the nobility to push forward. Alistair is the only person who can avoid such an occurrence from repeating itself."

Lucius watched her carefully, those strange eyes piercing through her and seeming to lay bare her heart and soul, before he nodded slowly. "A wise choice, my lady."

Alistair sat back, a little baffled by the response. "Where I get confused is – what exactly made encroaching on my territory and openly suggesting a change in rulership in between threats directed at both me and my betrothed sound like a good idea to you?"

Lucius sat back, the mask of mild contempt he had worn thus far falling away to reveal an expression of rueful honesty, looking a little too satisfied for Anora's comfort as he watched the young king. "It _didn't_."

The statement was met was absolute silence. Alistair swore softly beneath his breath, having caught on faster than Anora, much to her annoyance. He rubbed his eyes wearily and chuckled bitterly. "So that's what you were doing while we were being led here? Making sure Elissa knew what you were about?"

Lucius gave him a small smile. "The Warden Commander not only has served the Grey Wardens faithfully in these past five years, she outranks me, if you'll recall. I was hasty in making my apologies to her. I imagine you're thinking I should be held here for your own safety, but I assure you, that's not the case."

"Actually, I was thinking that I wish I could offer you a job."

Lucius raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I'll give you this bit of advice, from someone who has been studying the nobility for most of their life. If you ever want to know the true character of a man who has reason to be less than honest with you, it's a simple matter of discovering his loyalties, and then putting him in a position to defend them."

It clicked then, and Anora had to swallow a gasp of surprise. The threats, the bullying – all of it had been part of the process, nothing more that staged circumstances to allow Lucius in a remarkable short amount of time to get a thorough reading of Alistair's personality and learn his tells without a useless interview that would only reveal what Alistair chose to share. _Never trust Orlais, indeed_. Anora's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "You knew I spoke your language when you gave the order to have Elissa Cousland restrained."

"It's not a well kept secret, my lady." She had been set up, and she was raging over it, but Lucius was again speaking to Alistair. "Let us try at some honesty. We know very little about you, your Majesty, and my orders included rectifying that. I must assure you, that in your difficult position you may suffer from such a division of loyalty between your crown and your duty to us, but I do not. My life belongs to the Grey Wardens, not to Orlais or its Empress. All the information I have gathered will be for their benefit, not Celene's.

"Your Grey Wardens have gained the attention of the entire Order. Twice now your government has permitted us to be driven from Ferelden. We have decided to take a hand just this once against it happening again. One of the purposes for which I was sent was to learn how securely you held your throne. We cannot risk the Grey Wardens of Ferelden being embroiled in another uprising, not after the catastrophe that occurred in this very keep."

"But you admitted you don't have the power to make him step down," Anora objected heatedly. "How could you possibly have avoided...?" her voice trailed off as the grey eyes met hers meaningfully, and the full realization hit her with a shiver of cold that left her feeling slightly ill. Of course they couldn't make him step down – but they could easily remove the one obscure, lingering threat against him.

She doubted the nobility would have even noticed she was gone.

"Anora Mac Tir is currently under my protection," Alistair warned mildly.

Lucius nodded. "It is most comfortable for all of us, then, that she spoke for you, your Majesty. My orders from the First Warden were to investigate the strange occurrences I have already outlined for you and see that there was no sign of betrayal in your ascension. From what I have seen, you are an almost rigidly honest man, and my report will reflect that circumstance alone earned you your current position. However, the real accounts of the fifth Blight are absolutely essential to our records. Warden Commander Elissa is not nearly as clear in her dealings with us." He regarded him seriously. "So we are at this: I _know_ you don't truly want a fight with us, and you know we don't want to be driven from Ferelden again."

Alistair remained silent, reflecting on what had been revealed. Lucius seemed to sense his wavering. He sat forward, speaking earnestly. "All we want are answers. There are those in our Order who think that Elissa is a danger to everyone she comes across, and now that you're betrothal has been announced, those misgivings are only going to worsen, possibly into something dangerous. It would truly be in your best interest to cooperate."

"Elissa isn't any more dangerous than any of…" Alistair stopped, an idea occurring to him, and his eyes widened marginally. "You think she's possessed."

Lucius shrugged. "I think it's among one of the more reasonable explanations."

"And how exactly did you come to that conclusion? I've never even heard of the possibility."

"Just as _we've_ never heard the possibility of survival. Due to her constant claim of ignorance, we were forced to draw our own theories."

"It seems to me you're unusually interested in turning her into a test subject."

"You speak of our interest in her son." Lucius shuffled through the papers in front of him. "The records indicate the possibility that you are the boy's father. The Commander admitted during our tests that both parents were Grey Wardens, and as you journeyed with her during the Blight, it is our assumption it was you she spoke of. Can you confirm that?"

Alistair laughed darkly. "You know, I think you're probably the only people in all of Thedas who came to that extremely logical conclusion," he muttered. "You'll understand, then, my reluctance in believing you came for nothing but answers."

"The testing was _necessary_. In all of our history, there have been only a dozen cases recorded of two Grey Wardens conceiving a child. We have to know what effects such a union creates, to learn more about what dangers it might pose." He looked at Alistair hard. "We don't desire innocents to suffer from our illness. Is that so very hard to understand? We had to take the opportunity to learn more when it presented itself, given the rarity of such an occurrence."

"Lucky us."

"You _are_, actually," he stressed, frowning slightly. "A dozen cases. There are many, many more Grey Wardens who choose to marry, wishing they could share something of a normal life together. Perhaps you should complain to _them_ the nuisance being able to conceive was for you."

Alistair didn't answer right away, shoving a hand through his hair. "What is it you want to know?"

Lucius nodded, satisfied that he had the man in a position to be slightly more amiable, and took up his quill. "What were you doing in the tower?"

"Elissa found a Grey Warden token near a collapsed cave that led to the Deep Roads. As her Wardens had not had a chance yet to act, the first person we thought of was Avernus, given what we knew of him. She was there fulfilling her duty." His eyes narrowed and he briefly looked as if he had bitten into something sour. "Imagine my surprise to learn where he was getting his funding from."

For the first time since this interview began, Lucius looked uncomfortable. "His research seemed… beneficial to the Order."

"_Beneficial to the_ _Order_?" Even the controlled tone couldn't quite hide his incredulity. "You gave that lunatic free reign, even after Elissa _warned _you what he was capable of, and then you allowed him to get his hands on a couple of renegades to help him! How could you-?" As subtly as she could, Anora stepped on his foot, pressing down. Losing control wasn't going to help anything.

"That doesn't explain what you were doing there when we arrived, your Majesty."

"I happened to be with her at the time."

"I see. Is it your nature, that you give off ruling the country for an afternoon to explore dank caves?"

Alistair's gaze went positively frigid. "I'm a Grey Warden, as you keep pointing out. It's my nature to protect people from the darkspawn. More so now then ever. Elissa did her job here. That's your only concern. It's no fault of hers that you lost control of your men."

"It's _not _our only concern." Lucius' voice went hard, the command he wielded showing through despite his attempts thus far to appear subservient before royalty. "There remains the issue that there is no logical reason for Elissa Cousland to be alive. And now she's murdered the only man who may have been able to explain _why_."

"Elissa is alive because she was pregnant," Alistair remained quiet, unmoved by the man's heated speech, and it took all of Anora's willpower not to stare at him incredulously. Surely he realized Daniel would be in danger now, with that story? But once again, Alistair surprised her, holding up a black, weathered codex and tossing it onto the desk. "When the Archdemon was slain, the soul tried to inhabit the baby instead of the Grey Warden. We've learned that unborn children are more resilient to possession, leaving the soul exposed as it attempted to find a new host. During the transition, the witch you've hinted of was able to destroy it without losing any lives. It was a close thing, however, that nearly killed everyone in Denerim. Avernus had given full account of his theory right there." He gave the Warden a grim smile. "You may want to have it put into the histories that pregnant women are incapable of slaying the Archdemon without endangering the mission, and take the appropriate measures."

Lucius eyed him warily, but flipped through the codex, studying key passages. "The soul was destroyed?"

"That's the conclusion all the evidence pointed to."

"You're not certain?"

"There was no sign of the song after the slaying. Beyond that I can't help you. I know very little of apostate magic," he replied darkly.

"I see." Lucius continued to idly flip through the pages and then looked back up at Alistair, one eyebrow raised questioningly. "There are pages torn from this journal."

Even though Anora was _positive _at this point that Alistair knew exactly where those pages were, he gave the man a look of irritated obliviousness that was so convincing she was impressed. "You don't actually expect me to know _everything_, do you? Maybe he spilled ink on them or something."

Lucius carefully closed the valuable journal and tilted his head, considering. "The Warden Commander is still answerable to the slaying of fellow Wardens."

Alistair looked so furious that Anora would have liked to tell him that he was still giving away his hand where she was involved. Very irresponsible of him, really. "Avernus was a monster."

"Regardless, this is a dire matter. Though she holds the right to make the decision to put a renegade down, it is generally investigated extensively by Weisshaupt. They don't tolerate dissension in the ranks. There's too few of us as it is."

"This _isn't_ Weisshaupt." Even Anora had to be impressed by how beautifully it was done, the reminder that these men were far, far from home and reinforcements, and that Ferelden's Grey Wardens were fully capable of turning on them to protect their commander, all for so small a cause as killing a man who would have been brought to Warden justice anyway.

She felt a small stirring of pride. Perhaps Ferelden would not be taken so easily by these foreigners, after all.

Lucius drummed his fingers on the desk before waving a hand as if to indicate it was out of his control. "I see your point, Brother."

"I thought you might."

"I must reiterate that the journey here was made by the Grey Wardens. We do not, nor have we ever, represented the Empress of Orlais. Any orders I was given that have met your displeasure should be dealt with through my commanding officer. Her Majesty is genuine in her desire to secure peace between you."

Actually, if the rumors could be believed, Empress Celene was more interested in an alliance sealed by a royal marriage then peace obtained through negotiations, but, having become somewhat of a master at sidestepping women trying to marry him, Alistair had managed to put her off thus far. She was likely to be more than a little put out when the news of his betrothal reached her.

Not that Anora was going to tell Lucius any of that.

Alistair stood up, crossing his arms over his chest, indicating this meeting was over. "Tell your commanding officer that the Grey Wardens of Ferelden consider this matter closed. As I'm giving you all we know _in writing_, I don't expect Commander Elissa _or _myself will be questioned further on this matter."

"I believe that my superior would disagree. Should he require more information…"

Alistair leaned forward across the desk, his hands planted on the smooth surface. "You permitted that filthy maleficar to unleash those monsters on _my country_ without even the courtesy of a _warning_," he interrupted, a dangerous glint in his hazel eyes. The shift of power in the room was palpable, and Lucius looked away. "For the sake of the Order, _Brother_, I've cooperated as you asked me." He let the words sink in for half a moment. "You have your answers," Alistair stated quietly. "I trust you won't be lingering in Ferelden."

Lucius cleared his throat. "I… no, your Majesty. The Warden Commander has an adequate hold on the situation. We'll be taking our leave first thing in the morning."

-oOo-

"What did you mean by you and the Warden will only hold the throne for twenty five years?"

Alistair glanced up from the parchment he was writing on. "Her name is Elissa, in case you've forgotten. And don't get too excited. Daniel will still be there."

"I was just _asking_. Must you constantly accuse me of ulterior motives?"

"Sorry. Habit. And you know – common sense." He glanced up again. "I'm teasing you, Anora. You performed beautifully."

She slumped back, her arms crossed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. She had chewed on her tongue more in this hour than she had in her entire life, it seemed. Yet despite not truly needed her testimony, Alistair was willing to keep his end of their bargain. It would be nothing but idiotic to throw a tantrum for her own relief only and anger him now. She drew in a breath. "It seemed like a strange thing to say, is all."

"After twenty five years all Grey Wardens are required to join the Antivan circus," he deadpanned. "I've been taking lessons in juggling. Elissa's the tight rope walker. We're keeping the position of sword swallower open in case Zevran comes back."

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, glaring. "You're not going to tell me."

"Doesn't look like it." He reached over to sprinkle sand on the parchment to dry the wet ink, and sighed at her scowl. "It's nothing personal, Anora, and it's not that I don't appreciate what you've done. But regardless of how I feel about the Order right now, I took a vow. There are certain things I _can't_ tell you."

He carefully poured the sand back into the bowl and folded the parchment over, before closing it with the royal seal and offering it to her. "Your freedom, my lady."

Anora reached eagerly, and he flicked his wrist back, moving them just out of her grasp with that infuriating smile of his. She snatched the papers out of his hold, scowling at his childish behavior. "I may have thrown a little something extra in there," he said casually. "For your help. Consider it a wedding gift."

"And why would I want anything from-" she stopped, her eyes widening in disbelief. "This…" she had to stop and swallow. "This is the deed to my father's country estate."

"I heard a rumor you spent more than one summer there growing up." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, linking his fingers behind his head. "As it's near Highever rather than Gweran, I discovered it had yet to be redistributed some time ago. I've never made any use of it myself, but as part of my own lands, it's been maintained. It will be ready for you whenever you like."

"I don't – I mean…"

"Then don't," he said almost desperately. "Maker's breath, if _you_ start crying after all of this I may have to kill myself. Just _take_ it."

Anora nodded, waiting until her voice was back under her control. "I'll take my leave of you, your Majesty."

He raised that infuriating eyebrow at her. She only just resisted the urge to reach across the desk and yank it back down. "I suppose I'll see you at the wedding."

"I fail to see the humor in the situation. It appears I'm destined to be tied to you in some way. That's hardly amusing."

"And how do you think I feel, knowing my son has to call you _auntie_?"


	34. Forever

**Chapter Thirty Two**

**Forever**

**.**

_All that I'm after is a life full of laughter_

_As long as I'm laughing with you_

_And I'm thinking that_

_All that still matters is love ever after_

_After the life we've been through_

'_Cause I know there's no life after you_

_~ "Life After You" Chris Daughtry_

.

.

The sword tip missed her by inches only, Elissa catching sight of the swing and dodging at the last possible second to skitter out of its reach. She adjusted the grip on her own weapons, coming in as fast as she dared, each attack met with the clang of steel. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself harder, determined to break through the heavy defenses, her muscles straining and screeching in protest when she was forced to dive out of the way and roll back to her feet.

She almost didn't see the heavy sweep coming in on her blindside – was only fortunate enough that the sun's glare caught the metal in a blinding flash of light visible to her hampered vision in enough time for her to get her main hand up in position for a block. She swung in with her off hand, but the blow fell short of its mark, and she grunted in discomfort when the shield hit her, only hard enough to make her stumble back and land in the dirt.

"Damn it!" Elissa threw her practice swords down and wiped the sweat out of her eyes. "It's no good. I can't tell where you are."

Alistair lowered his shield and brushed the back of his hand across his forehead, breathing heavily. "Right. No good a'tall. Excuse me a moment while I go over there and keel over, would you?"

She glared at him. Elissa had physically recovered in the two weeks since they returned to Highever, but the hardest work was still ahead. The blind side left her vulnerable in ways she had never imagined before, making her feel clumsy and skittish, jumping at every little noise like a rank amateur. To add to her aggravations, she had recently discovered a new difficulty judging distances and range, hampering her abilities to fight effectively even further.

Alistair flopped down next to her, probably grateful for the break. "It's just going to take time, Liss."

Patience was not exactly her strong point. She disliked the feeling of helplessness, and the hindrance in her progress was making her surly. "How am I supposed to keep my command like this?"

He gave her a strange look. "Did I mention I can barely breathe, here?"

"I'm serious, Alistair!"

"So am I. You're still formidable enough with those razors in your hands, and your command will mostly be held from Denerim, right? There isn't much of a darkspawn infestation there, you know."

"I can't touch you! Darren was facing down a dragon two months after losing his _friggin' arm_."

"Darren had Wynne tending to him while he did nothing more strenuous than ride in a cart for three weeks, and then had four more weeks of rest before our trip to the Peak, and oh yeah – he's a _lunatic_. It was luck alone that let him survive that fight with the dragon – you know it, too, or you wouldn't have reassigned him to Denerim." She continued to pout, and he shook his head. "Why are you always so much harder on yourself then you are any of your Wardens? You need to give yourself more _time_."

Deep down, she knew he was right. It would be months before anyone in Vigil's Keep would expect her to return to the battlefield with such an injury, and they were aware she had every intention of spending most of her time in the city proper from now on rather than riding the roads at the head of her small army, anyway. They Grey Wardens needed a representative in court, and not one of her officers had thought to suggest anyone else for the position, given her political experience and detailed knowledge of the Ferelden Order. The fact that she had a wedding rapidly approaching really only seemed to be a minute detail that happened to fit into the outlined plan, as far as Tomlin and the others were concerned.

Still it grated, to have the option taken away from her. Queen or no, she wanted to know that she could still do it, should necessity demand it. Presently, she had no such reassurance to fall back on.

Alistair looked at her a moment longer before sighing softly. "You're worried about the Landsmeet tomorrow."

She was, though the failed sparring match wasn't exactly _minor _on her lists of frustrations. The meeting of the nobility had been preying on her mind for days as the last of the summoned nobles reached Highever, ready to accept or reject her son. Alistair seemed confident that he would get the results he wanted from this meeting, but Elissa's skeptical nature had her imagining the most disastrous scenarios. Once it was officially announced that Daniel was a legitimate Theirin, there would be no taking it back. If they didn't accept him, he would be a threat to whomever Alistair ended up naming as his heir, and if anything happened to him…

She couldn't bear to think of it.

Something of her darkening mood must have shown on her face, because Alistair heaved a sigh and struggled to his feet. "Get up. We're going again."

"What's the point?"

"Do you want to step down?"

"No!"

"Then _get up_. You think your Wardens are going to put up with a commander that can be bested by some pampered king?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you going to be the one to whip me into shape now?"

"That's the plan."

"You don't have the time. And I'm likely to be a crummy patient."

"I'll make time, and you're always a crummy patient." He reached down and offered her a hand, hauling her to her feet. "C'mon, Elissa. This moping around isn't like you. You've felt sorry for yourself long enough. It's depressing as hell." He smiled. "Besides, I won't be satisfied until I know I can take you down when you're in top form."

She snorted, but she could feel the faint beginnings of a smile. "Big talk for someone who collapses a lung changing his socks."

"Bring it, woman."

She shook her head with a grin and lifted her weapons, falling back into a defensive stance. "I love you, you know."

He chuckled. "I do, actually. I love you, too."

-oOo-

The Landsmeet looked so strange, here in the great hall of Castle Highever. Alistair knew that more than one person was a little uncomfortable at his unorthodox order to gather here rather than in Denerim, but it made sense, as well, given the amount of people Fergus had already been hosting as well as in consideration to Daniel's bloodline. It didn't hurt to remind the voting members of the Landsmeet once more just who Elissa was beneath the armored exterior.

Fergus was playing his own hand in swaying the crowd, dressed far more regally than he usually would have chosen to be, seated beside Alistair on the dais with Daniel beside him. Alistair hadn't even considered not having the child there, fully intending on driving the resemblance between he and his son home in the minds of those gathered. Daniel was taking the whole thing very well, considering, looking solemn and a little nervous at the stern looking adults all focused on him.

Alistair tossed him a wink as Alfstanna started to speak.

"Elissa Cousland is known to all present here today," she said in her clear, firm voice. "Long have the Couslands defended Ferelden, ruling their teyrndom with fairness and honesty. Daniel Cousland is the product of two of Ferelden's greatest houses."

"Provided he's truly a Theirin," Silgyn countered matter-of-factly. "Your pardon, your Majesty, but the skeptical side of me has to wonder at two..." he managed to stop himself just before calling the king and his son a bastard and floundered a moment for the right words, "... unknown sons appearing in the nick of time in as many generations."

Alistair shifted in his seat. "I understand your trepidation, of course, but all I can offer you is my oath that Daniel is my son. Were I not sure of it, I would present him as a candidate only, brought forth for your approval." He gave them his most charming smile. "I'm well aware how patient many of you have been in this matter over the years. I would think you quite relieved."

There were assenting chuckles in the crowd.

"It's no secret that His Majesty and the Warden Commander have been in acquaintance for many years now," Alfstanna added. "Indeed, one could argue that she has known him longer than any of us."

Alistair nearly snorted. Leave it to Alfstanna to put a flowery spin on the fact everyone there _knew_ he had the opportunity to have gotten Elissa pregnant. It was just a matter of choosing to acknowledge it, now.

Another man stepped forward, a lesser bann with small, watery eyes and twitchy hands whose name Alistair couldn't recall. "You ask that the betrothal will go forward regardless of our decision?"

"I didn't, actually. It will." The quick rise of muttering wasn't lost on him, but Alistair's voice was calm despite the small drop his stomach took. He hoped the confirmation wouldn't do anything to weaken Daniel's position. "Obviously I would prefer the chance to set my family to rights, but the betrothal has been acknowledged by the Chantry right here in Highever. Elissa _will _be my wife, before the year is finished."

More murmurs, these more serious than the last wave, and Alistair guessed they were debating the possibility of Elissa providing another heir. Though the gathering could know nothing of the Taint, it was better known that Elissa had spent five years fighting the darkspawn, and they had seen enough of their blackening presence to worry about her health. Which may be for the better, he thought. So long as they respected Elissa's mind and ability to rule, the uncertainty might have been just the tool they needed to nudge the indecisive few in their direction.

The muttering died down, and Alfstanna gave him a short, questioning look. He nodded slightly, and she stepped forward. "His Majesty calls for a vote. Let those in favor of adopting Daniel Cousland, hereafter called Theirin, into the line and accepting him as a legitimate heir step forward."

She was the first, but as Alistair watched, trying not to let his anxiety show, many more followed suit, including Royce, looking pensive at being here after the disaster that had occurred. Alistair held his breath, but more than half had already moved in favor, and those reluctant to do so soon followed, not willing to earn his displeasure when it became clear the motion had already passed.

Later, he was sure he had said all the right things, thanking them for their time and dismissing the gathering, but he had no real memory of it. He remembered only a bubbling sort of happiness, that the last piece of the puzzle was falling into place, that he would have Elissa and Daniel with him at last, free of the threat of being taken from him ever again.

Alistair waited for the chamber to clear before he gave into his instincts and threw his head back, whooping aloud in pure joy.

-oOo-

Alistair all but dragged Elissa up to their chambers despite the early hour, his body humming with energy and happiness both, and determined to share it with her in the most basic fashion that sprang to mind.

She laughed between the teasing demands his mouth was making as he slowly backed her up towards the bed. "I might be swayed to believe that you're happy about this."

He chuckled against her throat, guiding her back on the pillows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you're in it up to your neck now. No more finely dressed noblewomen throwing themselves at your feet in hopes of providing you with an heir. Whatever are you going to do with yourself?"

"Yes," he agreed dryly, unbuttoning the top of her shirt. "Years of never meeting another woman who could possibly live up to you in my mind has suddenly worn off. I was in it for the chase. You'd best put me on a leash now."

"Hmm, I think it might detract from your willingness at the altar. Though, I'm sure Leliana could come up with something that looked tasteful and not at all like I had to drag you there." She kissed him, then broke away suddenly when a new thought occurred to her. "Oh! Speaking of Leliana..."

He sighed against her collarbone. "Elissa, love, I'm using my best moves here. Do you think you could maybe focus?"

She smirked. "Promise me you'll never, _ever _say anything about other women in bed again and I'll consider it."

"Oh, I see how it is," he grinned, reaching down to pull her shirt out of her waistband. "Fine. I'm properly chastised. No more tasteless jokes – at least in bed. Now, if you don't mind…" A soft knock on the door in the outer chamber interrupted him, followed by Alina's soft, hesitant voice.

"My lady? The baby is awake and fed. You said you wanted her brought to you?"

"Or not," Alistair groaned, rolling onto his back so Elissa could scramble up and cursing his forgetfulness in bolting the door. He bent his arm behind his head, lounging back against the pillows. "I thought you were going to let Alina find someone to take care of her until the Chantry made room for the refugees?" he called at her retreating back.

"I did," her voice drifted in from the other room hesitantly. She appeared a moment later with the baby on her shoulder. "They're going down to the Chantry tomorrow. I just wanted some time with her first." She sighed. "I suppose I've gotten more attached than I should have."

Alistair sighed and scooted over, making room for both of them. He reached over and nudged the tiny infant hand until her fist curled around his fingertip, smiling to himself. "It's not _such_ a terrible thing, being sent to the Chantry."

She looked at him skeptically as she shifted the baby. "You realize that's the exact _opposite _of everything you've ever said about the Chantry _ever_. Here, hold her for a moment while I fetch a lighter blanket."

He obliged, raising his knees to settle the baby more or less on his lap, propped up by his legs. He had been initially terrified of holding her, but once Elissa had all but forced him to, he found it difficult to put her down again. She had the darkest eyes he had ever seen, nearly black, wide awake for the moment and watching him almost curiously.

"You don't want to go to the Chantry either, do you?" he whispered with a sigh. He ran a gentle hand over the dark thatch of thick hair that crowned her head. He knew better than Elissa exactly what kind of life awaited the infant, as a student, as an acolyte, as a priestess.

He knew full well Elissa wanted to keep the baby – he wasn't a _complete _idiot, after all. The temptation was there, especially with those large, dark eyes studying him so intently. Beneath the joy of the Landsmeet and the future that it brought, his heart remained tired and sore, throbbing silently at the loss of his black-haired little boy with solemn golden eyes and a shy smile.

He knew that wound would never heal. The most he could hope for was to patch it up a little for what could be a long, long time, until he found Kern and his mother again. He had one hope: Aeryc was with them, and would know how important it was to get word to Alistair eventually, as soon as he thought it safe enough.

He sighed to himself again, wiggling the finger that the baby still clasped in her fist. After the concession he had just gotten, he didn't dare consider getting a child of no notable blood adopted into the line. But…

The Landsmeet didn't necessarily have to be involved, in such a situation. As long as there was no attempt to claim an heir, there would be no contention for legitimacy. He and Elissa were free to do what they wanted.

Elissa came in then. "What wrong?"she asked, her eyebrows drawing together in concern as she resumed her place next to him.

"I was just thinking."

"Of what?"

"That my mother's name was Abigail," he answered quietly. He tilted his head, regarding the baby in his lap as seriously as he could with Elissa's shocked expression making him want to laugh. "She looks like an Abigail, don't you think?"

Elissa only stared at him, trying to determine if he meant what she thought he meant, before the bright smile spread across her face, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. "Abbie," she agreed, her joy stealing away her trademark poise when she threw herself across his chest and hugged him tightly enough to steal his breath while he laughed. "We'll call her Abbie."

-oOo-

The days passed lazily at the high point of summer. The rooms were muggy and hot, the open windows occasionally producing a cool, fresh breeze that did little to dispel the uncomfortable heat the permeated the castle. Alistair chose to stay in the great hall until late in the evenings, not too excited to return to either his stifling room or his empty bed.

Almost immediately after the Landsmeet, Elissa took her leave of Highever and returned to Vigil's Keep to see to her affairs while he stayed behind, holding normal court after nearly four months of being absent from the royal palace. Some of the crowd had already started back to either their own lands or to Denerim, but he could hardly fault those who had been waiting for him to return to take advantage of his presence.

For two weeks he lingered in Highever, anxious and letting his fears get the best of him in the length of the seemingly endless days, waiting until he could go and join her. When at last he was free to make his escape and follow, he set a breakneck pace, half dreading what he would find when he reached the Keep.

At his worst he imagined she just wouldn't be there, would have changed her mind and slipped into obscurity with Morrigan somewhere, two women laying low to escape the burden his crown brought with it. Though he tried to talk his irrational fears into submission, he was doing a poor enough job of it, and his eagerness to reach Amaranthine only intensified.

Yet at the end of a week's travel, the keep appeared in the distance as the day began to fade, looking warmer than usual as the golden light from the setting sun caressed the grey, weathered stone. Unable to contain himself, he raced ahead of the caravan, galloping straight into the courtyard with the shouts of the news of his arrival ringing in his ears. He swung down just in time to catch Elissa as she ran down the stairs and threw herself into his arms, revealing for an unguarded instant that she had been just as unsure at the guarantee of this reunion as he had been in the weeks they were apart.

It may just have been possible he had been holding his breath all those long days until that very moment.

-oOo-

"You do realize that it's probably too much to hope that the news I'm returning with my betrothed hasn't spread."

Elissa handed Abbie to Alina before turning to look at him. They were stopped by a stream just on the outskirts of Denerim, fulfilling the customary clean up before entering the city proper. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You're going to ask me to put on a dress, aren't you?"

"I really am."

She tilted her head, a mischievous smile in place. "Probably a good thing I already have one laid out, then. I did wonder what you wanted to do about Daniel, though. Would you prefer he stayed in the wagon for now?"

"And miss the look on Eamon's face when he sees him? Not a chance." He glanced down at his son and laughed to himself, kneeling down to help him tug a velvet tunic, which seemed to be reluctant to be worn, down over his head. "C'mon, your Highness," Alistair smiled, lifting him up and tossing him over his shoulder. "You're riding with me."

They reached the city by noon. The criers immediately went in every direction, announcing that the king had returned to the city, and the crowds began to form, eager to get a look at the new prince and future queen. Many were quick to recognize Elissa and yelled out their approval, waving as if greeting an old friend. Elissa laughed and waved back to all of them.

The palace courtyard was more crowded then the streets, a bustle of servants and courtiers and the king's advisors all rushing out to greet him. Daniel was looking around in wide-eyed bewilderment. "Do you live here?"

"Only when they make me," he answered cheerily.

Alistair waved off the noisy crowd, leading Daniel by the hand up into the wide hall, where Arl Eamon looked ready to spit nails while Wynne appeared to scold him, speaking earnestly and too low for Alistair to hear her. She looked up at their entrance and smiled, holding out her hands as she came to greet the family.

Eamon's eyes skittered across Elissa first, narrowed and suspicious, before they fell on Daniel. His eyes went wide, apparently having caught the resemblance originally lost on Alistair. The young king soon lost sight of him, suddenly swarmed by people who had been waiting for _months _your Majesty, please – this needs to be seen to _immediately_.

_Tomorrow_, he told himself, pushing Eamon to the back of his mind. He'd worry about it tomorrow. Right now, he didn't want anything ruining the mood he was in.

-oOo-

It was late when he finally made it to his rooms for the evening. Daniel and Abbie were long since asleep, but Elissa was awake and waiting for him, sitting in bed and reading by the light of the fire. He stopped in the doorway, loathe to interrupt her. For so long he had imagined her here, in this room, waiting for him just like this at the end of the day – he wanted to savor it for a moment.

She looked up at length and smiled, setting the book aside. "You look exhausted."

"You wouldn't believe the messes that pile up after one summer," he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're a vision to tired eyes, love. I hope you didn't get too bored up here alone?"

She grinned like she was participating in a private joke at his expense. "Not really. We got our first wedding gift today," she said too innocently, crawling over to the edge of the bed to bend down and pull a pack out from where she had stashed it underneath.

The package contained a set of revealing lingerie and a note that was unsigned.

_Wear it and think of me._

"Who on earth would…" He scowled as the realization dawned on him. "_Zevran._" With a sound like a growl he crumbled up the note in his hand and threw it into the fire. "Even the bastard's _handwriting _is pretentious."

She laughed and drew up to her knees to loosely put her arms around his neck. "You can shred it, if it makes you feel better. He sent me a real gift to go with it," she gestured to a silver box sitting on the vanity, tastefully carved with depictions of roses, so realistic it seemed they might bloom. "I'm sure the rest was only a chance to annoy you that he couldn't pass up." She laughed at the sour look on his face. "Have your way with them, my love. I already took what I wanted from that particular joke he had on you."

"You actually wanted to keep something?"

She smiled mischievously and nodded. "Jewelry."

He raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "What _kind _of jewelry?"

Her eyes changed, going soft and shaded in the firelight. "Here's an idea," she murmured, slowly tugging at his collar with both hands as she leaned back. "Why don't you come here and find it?"

-oOo-

They were at their breakfast the next morning when Eamon blew into the room. He didn't bother to hide a distrustful look at Elissa before turning towards Alistair. "Your Majesty. It's good that you've returned. There are several matters of the utmost importance I feel we need to discuss, not the least of which is your supposed changes to your living conditions."

Elissa immediately stiffened, trying to keep her composure when he could practically feel the rage churning beneath the surface. Alistair reached out and caught her fingers with a glance at Daniel, begging her not to blow up. She nodded, curtly, but her spine remained straight as iron, her eyes hard.

"Arl Eamon – I'd like a word with you," Alistair said, hiding his own anger only barely as he got to his feet and headed towards his office without waiting for a response. "_Immediately_."

Eamon followed obediently, not speaking until the heavy door was shut behind them. Alistair flopped down behind his desk and eyed the man hard. "Explain yourself."

"I apologize for my attitude, your Majesty. I realize it was not very polite of me, but I cannot help my suspicions. It's rather convenient, some would say, that you should see Elissa Cousland only once after all these years, and remarkably she happens to produce the family you not only need but have been hoping for all of your life." Eamon watched him through heavy lidded eyes. "I don't suppose any questioning has taken place to ensure…"

"Tread carefully, Eamon," Alistair warned quietly. "Calling Elissa a liar _isn't_ in your best interests at this juncture."

Eamon went rigid in his seat, detecting the threat in the king's voice. "As you say. I know that you are very fond of her, of course."

"This isn't _about _that," Alistair snapped. "Though, don't get me wrong – after the summer I've been through, I'd marry Elissa even if the Maker himself forbid it. But it doesn't change the fact that she also happens to be an excellent choice for me."

"Your Majesty, I realize that the people hold her in high regard, but..."

"You're just trying to save face now." Alistair leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to reign in his temper. "Eamon, Elissa isn't just the hero of the people. She's a Cousland, don't forget. She's highly educated and well versed in politics. She's on the first name basis with the daughter and wife of nearly every bann east of the King's Highway. She can tell you the names of their children, their likes and their dislikes, and who they love and hate right off the top of her head. She has close connections in Orlais that her father ensured when she was still little, _and _she speaks the language fluently. She's getting there with Antivan as well." He stopped and scowled. "Honestly, the only thing Bryce _didn't_ do was tie a bow around her and drop her in Cailan's lap."

Eamon sighed, running his hand over his face, and reluctantly began to chuckle quietly to himself. "It is true – the fact that she became a Grey Warden and found you is just the kind of irony that the Maker seems to enjoy so much."

"So it is." Alistair paused, fingering the edge of the proclamation Anora had kept safely for him, already open and waiting on his desk. "But, you must know, we have to discuss your part in hindering that, don't we?"

For a moment, he thought he saw what might have been shame flash in the old man's eyes, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't something he just wanted to see. Eamon weighed his answer carefully, obviously realizing he wasn't going to be able to deny his actions without earning Alistair's outrage. "If you can believe it, your Majesty, my actions came from a desire to protect my country."

Alistair shook his head, grateful, at least, that he wasn't trying to worm his way out of it. "They came from doubting that I could do my job," he sighed. "Look, you've always believed that I was nothing more than a boy with a crush, so I'm not going to waste my breath telling you what it took to send her away. I wish you could have realized it then, because then maybe you could have seen how serious I was about this. I'm also not going to spend too much time pointing out that you did much more than keeping my family from me – you nearly cost Ferelden what could be their only chance at a succession in the line, rather than another war. I think you know both of those things already.

"I can't have you as an advisor any longer. You know that as well. Seeing as how I've been unable to find precedence regarding the dismissal of a man of your authority that didn't end in a public execution, we're going to have to make up some of our own."

Eamon took the news stoically enough, nothing more than a smoldering in his eyes revealing his disappointment. Alistair hardened himself against it – his disappointment meant nothing now, not after all he had done. It was harder to convince himself of that than he had originally thought. Yet his voice was even as he laid out the details of the man's dismissal. "You'll return to Redcliffe. I've arranged an escort for you and Isolde to travel at your leisure. You should know, though, that Teagan's authority will not be lessened in any way by your presence there. He and his Lady are the rulers of Redcliffe. You're not permitted to cross Ferelden borders, or meet with any foreign ambassadors." Alistair's expression softened somewhat. "If I've ever meant anything at all to you, Eamon, I'm begging – please don't force my hand in this. You _will_ be tried for treason."

At first it seemed Eamon wouldn't answer. Finally he slumped in his seat, looking years older, and ran a hand over his face. "Indulge a tired old man, if you would. Who will be standing as your regent from here on?"

"Fergus Cousland."

"I thought he might. Politically speaking, he's a strong choice." Eamon considered. "It gives Anora a close position to the throne, but I suppose you already thought of that." He was quite a moment longer before he raised his eyebrows, impressed, and nodded to himself. "Which is what she wanted. You've given her a strong hand, but she'll never be able to poison the ear of the _teyrn_ to reach higher. Particularly if it means harming his sister. You've essentially made what supporters Anora has left answerable to Fergus."

"Better than that. Should anything happen to any of us, she knows full well she's going to be the first one he turns on. She'll be exceptionally interested in using her resources to keep them safe. She's on our side properly now."

Eamon chuckled to himself. "Dastardly."

"Eamon," Alistair said quietly with a small smile, "I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I found my way around this place a long time ago."

"Yes," the man replied slowly, looking over Alistair, and the king saw his eyes glint in the morning light. "Yes, I suppose you have, your Majesty."

-oOo-

Alistair stepped out onto the balcony, basking in the freshness of the summer morning, looking down at the hazy smoke and roofs of the city below, surprisingly happy to be _home. _He had missed the castle, the people, the view, and wondered when his life had stopped being a matter of fulfilling his duty and started to become his own. He couldn't pinpoint the moment, didn't really care, but it was a nice realization to come to, all the same.

He leaned against the rail, looking down at the courtyard below, and a shiver of familiarity went up his spine, tugging at a memory he had done his best to bury as he looked out past the gates to the road out of the city.

It was the same spot, he realized. The same spot he had been standing in, all that time ago, when he watched her ride away from him.

He heard the door open softly behind him and Elissa was at his side, banishing the memories. She stood on tiptoe so she could rest her chin on his shoulder, her head tilted curiously. "What are you thinking about?"

He smiled. "Nothing that matters now." He took her arm and drew her in front of him, noting the expectant look on her face. "What is it?"

"I have some rather horrible news for you."

"Oh good. It's been at least a week."

She laughed. "Nothing so dire. You're chamberlain is in absolute fits over the propriety of our arrangement." She laughed. "You know the standard applications – mistresses and serving girls, whatever, but future queens aren't to be sullied. I've agreed to let him put me in another room until after the wedding."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of in my entire life," he objected. "We've got a four year old kid. Does he think we just hired him to follow us around?"

"All the same, there are rules to follow now. It won't kill you."

"I should get Wynne to give him her 'babies don't really come from the Fade' speech just to amuse myself," he grumbled.

She laughed again. "I figured you waited five years, you could wait a bit longer."

"Five years?" he snorted. "Don't be _stupid_. I've been waiting my whole life for you."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, her head against his chest, snuggling into his embrace until her response was muffled by his shirt.

"_You're _stupid."

* * *

_**A/N**__: Thus ends the tale of _Here Without You_. Lengthy epilogue will be posted later this evening or early tomorrow._

_I have to give gushing thanks __first and foremost goes to the readers who have stuck with this story throughout the long hiatuses, the typos, the sometimes confusing directions it took, and the moments where I was left flailing my arms and lamenting, "I can't DO this!" at my computer screen. Your feedback and encouragement has been utterly priceless, and I sincerely hope it was worth the trip._

_To my fellow cheeky monkeys for all the hand-holding, long chats, and gales of laughter when you make me __spray my screen with soft drinks, or occasionally watch me fall out of my chair._

_To Joss Whedon, for unwittingly providing me with all of my chapter titles, for those of you who caught on to it ;)  
_

_And, of course, to Bioware, for creating such a lovely sandbox to play in, __one that at times can be perfect for building both sandcastles and happy endings._


	35. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

.

_Right here in this moment_

_Is right where I'm meant to be_

_Here with you here with me…_

_~ "I Could Not Ask For More" Edwin McCain_

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.

The alleyways of Denerim were dark and twisting beneath the full of the moon, the aftermath of the rain making the streets shine in the night, the sound of dripping water punctuating the stillness of the paths avoided by most of the populace, save for the occasional contingent of guards, holding the illusion that law and order still ruled Denerim, but he knew better, here in her most intimate places. He was careful to keep to the shadows, ducking the few figures he passed. With each one, he fingered the handles of his razor sharp daggers almost lovingly, the knowledge he could overpower any one of them before they had a chance to defend themselves swelling in his brain like a drug. Here in the shadows, he chose to let them live, blissfully unaware of the danger that watched as they moved on, oblivious.

He _was _darkness. He was death.

He ducked through the nondescript door in an obscure corner that led to the _King's Men_, a tavern of some repute that catered to the most dangerous patrons Denerim had to offer. It was rumored that a new gang had moved in recently and held strong influence over the place, as was evidenced by the interior, which was decidedly cleaner and even boasted some luxuries previously not seen there. Eva still worked behind the counter, however – a wise decision, as the woman was a draw in her own right. Olive skinned and breathtakingly gorgeous, Eva's image of soft sensuality belied a woman who was reputedly deadly with the light, rune-inscribed daggers she openly wore.

Bailey was already seated at the counter, waiting for him. He paused and took note of the room, empty save for a couple of shadowed ruffians in the corner, and a cloaked and hooded figure seated at the bar.

Bailey nodded in greeting and tossed back another drink. Though young, the boy had proven useful in the three weeks he had been with the gang.

"You learned what we needed to know?"

Bailey nodded and motioned for Eva to fill the cup again. "She's staying in a separate room as we heard, but he's with her almost all the time. You were right about the grumblers. There are quite a few who aren't pleased that _two _Grey Wardens will sit on the throne of Ferelden." He paused and took another drink, long enough for the assassin to note that Eva's eyes glanced up at the mention of the royal couple and moved over him curiously. "I don't know about this," Bailey continued nervously, unaware of the attention. "The nobility doesn't seem angry enough to do anything about it. Muttering into their cups doesn't mean they'll be willing to risk an actual contract against her."

He chuckled darkly. "Then you know nothing of the nobility. It often takes nothing more than a nudge to bring them around. This hit could make our fortune, boy. Our names would be known throughout Ferelden."

The figure in the corner moved, pulling the hood from his head, revealing a length of blond hair and a face marked with strange designs. "It is a dangerous job you are considering, I should warn you." The stranger's accent was thick and rolling, identifying him as a native of Antiva. "She is royally hard to kill, the Grey Warden." The Antivan carefully set his drink down, his eyes flicking over the buxom barkeep.

It happened in a second. The Antivan moved at the same time the Eva produced a dagger and stabbed it down through Bailey's hand. The boy howled in pain, pinned to the table. There was a sing of metal, then stabbing, ripping pain, and the Antivan's pale green eyes seemed to glow as the world around him darkened, melting away at the edges into a sea of black.

"You, I have gathered, are not."

.

Zevran shook his head and wiped the blood off of his hands in distaste. "Elissa would have worn your man parts around her neck as a trophy, my disillusioned friend," he muttered, then glared at the boy, who whimpered and writhed as he tried to free his hand. "And you would do well to tell any of your gang that Elissa Cousland has many more friends than the crowd of royal flunkies that swarm her." He yanked the dagger out of the boy's hand, the sob that accompanied the action confirming his suspicions that this child was completely inexperienced in the world he had wandered into and would likely go running home to his mother. "Whatever gold they may offer, I tell you now it's not worth it."

He sobbed again, clutching his bleeding hand, and fled into the night.

Amos got up from his place in the corner, taking the seat beside Zevran with a cool glance at the body. "Do you think we should follow him?"

Zevran considered, but shook his head. "Clumsy thugs only with delusions of grandeur. I trust the boy king to keep her safe from that sort, at the very least. There are far more powerful men with reason to hate Elissa that concern me."

He settled back into his chair, cursing at his spilled drink. Eva was quick to replace it, wiping off her bar counter as if nothing untoward had happened while Zevran's companions hauled the body out the back. He smiled, genuinely impressed with a woman who carried herself so well. "So, _bella_, you were saying, before we were so rudely interrupted, that you wanted to see Redcliffe. How very convenient. As it happens, I am quite familiar with the Lady there…"

-oOo-

The mountains were bitingly cold still, the winter wind lingering even as the first hints of green stubbornly pushed up through the muddy landscape, transforming the meadow around the small hut from a grey, barren piece of land into a soft oasis of filtered sunlight and awakening life. Aeryc huddled deeper into his cloak as he gathered the firewood needed for the day, careful to collect only scattered, dry branches that the trees had given up willingly, as the witch had taught him.

Morrigan knew the natural world like no one Aeryc had ever met, living in the ebb and flow of the seasons without a hint of her passing left behind, the sacred balance of nature flowing through her veins and evidenced in all she did. She could survive out here for years with no one being the wiser, and he eagerly accepted her curt instruction, aware of his own infantilism in this new life.

"Aeryc!" Kern was racing up the slope towards him, a pair of trout dangling from his hands as he scrambled over the rocks and roots towards the clearing, dragging the fish the entire way. They would likely be inedible by the time he reached him, but Aeryc smiled at his excitement. "The ice is breaking! Look!"

"I see," he laughed, tousling the ebony locks when the boy reached his side, holding up the fish proudly. "And a nice change it'll be, too, to have something to eat rather than venison."

"You are free to hunt yourself, if my fare is so wearying to you," Morrigan said mildly as she emerged from the hut, carrying a bushel of herbs to add to the stew. Aeryc said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow at her, and though she didn't look at him he saw the telltale lifting at the corners of her mouth as she peered into the pot. "As you wish. I think we've enabled the old stag to keep his domain for another spring."

He sat down beside her, noting that she didn't immediately pull away. By midwinter something had changed between them, though he still wasn't entirely certain what it was. "The snows are almost gone. We should consider returning to the northern lands."

"Hmm." She didn't answer right away, pondering the suggestion. Her eyes were on her son, curled up in his cloak and snuggling into Aeryc's side to shield himself from the wind. The Warden obliged him, dropping an arm around the slender shoulders and drawing him closer. "I suppose you have an inkling to check in with your commander."

"I have an inkling to let my _friend _know we're still alive." He gave her his quiet smile. "My service is given to new command, if it escaped your notice."

She laughed lightly. "And did I ask for such? 'Tis more work than it is worth, after all I have seen Elissa put up with in the time I have known her. You stay because you have proven useful and do not annoy me nearly as much as I had anticipated." Her smile grew into something almost playful. "For now."

"Harridan."

"Idiot."

He chuckled and pulled her closer when she rested her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

-oOo-

It was spring again.

He couldn't shake the thought that it wasn't real, threatening to be snatched away while he was left standing as the punchline to a particularly cruel joke. He had gone through his own wedding in a daze, wondering if he was about to wake up and find that he was still alone, Wynne just outside and about to tell him it was time to depart to Redcliffe for Leliana's wedding.

Elissa's sparkling green eyes, changed from her years as Commander of the Grey in a way that his subconscious could never have invented but overflowing with happiness, had sent the fear spinning into nothing.

Over the winter Elissa had slid into her place as wife and queen as easily as if she had always been meant to be there, and he thought as he saw her hurrying down the steps towards him with Abbie on her hip, she probably had.

She stopped and smiled at the sight of Alistair, lifting Daniel up so he could look over the fence into the pens of the new litter of mabari pups. Sam trotted along at his ankles, sniffing warily at the pups with a few huffs of disapproval while Elissa handed Daniel a heavy cloak. "Put this on, since your father seems to have overlooked that it's not summer just yet."

Alistair sighed and set the boy down. "It's been my experience that women are naturally cold-blooded," he said in a carrying whisper with the air of someone departing a vital secret as he helped the boy fasten the cloak around his shoulders. A fresh gust blew at them and he found himself shivering, much to Elissa's amusement. "Though, I suppose that wind _is _a bit on the chilly side."

Abbie lifted her arms immediately when he rose, leaning precariously in her mother's hold. Elissa shook her head as she passed the baby over. "You're turning her into the most nauseating daddy's girl in all of Ferelden."

"Listen to her talk as if that wasn't the plan all along, precious one. Poor mama."

"Da said I can have my own dog!" Daniel announced excitedly, nearly dancing in place in his excitement.

"Da said you could see if one of them decided to pick you," Alistair corrected, passing Abigail off to the waiting Alina. "Maybe we'll get lucky with this bunch, but you may have to wait a bit longer."

Sam whined, looking up at him plaintively.

"And what am I supposed to do, when you're turning into a grumpy old man who spends his days in front of a fire?" Alistair demanded of the jealous mabari. "Your job is to be with Elissa, anyway."

Same snorted loudly but pressed nearer his mistress, deliberately wedging himself between them and nearly knocking Alistair over. He caught himself and glared at the dog.

"Rotten mutt."

Elissa laughed, waiting until Alina was out of earshot before handing over a scrap of parchment with no seal. "This came for you today." He opened it to find small, pressed purple flowers and handwriting he didn't recognize.

_Spring is his favorite time of year. He spends the days collecting these, even if it means I am forced to continually drag him in from the rains. _

_He has also since become obsessed with collecting seashells, for which I blame __you__._

He smiled, feeling the brightness as he hungrily read over the sparse words again.

"I think it's her way of telling you that they'll be in Highever later this summer," Elissa said quietly.

Alistair glanced up. "You gleaned that from a poorly disguised insult?"

She shrugged. "Well, you really have to understand Morrigan to appreciate her. Read between the lines." She grinned. "And… that's what Aeryc said in his letter," she added casually, holding up her own, considerably lengthier correspondence.

"Minx."

She chuckled. "Aeryc thinks it should be safe to sneak a visit soon. We'll have to be careful still, but a couple of weeks in Highever shouldn't set anyone's tongues to excessive wagging."

She laughed brightly when he yanked her forward into a crushing hug, his happiness nearly bursting within him. A thought occurred just a moment later than he would have liked, and he glanced at her sheepishly. "Uh, this doesn't bother you, does it?"

She smirked at him. "Did you really just ask me if I'm afraid you're going to run off with _Morrigan_?"

"Hey, I'm just playing the sensitive, concerned husband here. It…" he floundered, then sighed and smiled. "Okay. It sounded less stupid in my head."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me looking for additional drama to color our lives. I don't know if it's fate or not, but in the two years I've spent with you, I've had to end a Blight, name the majority of Ferelden's royalty, and redeem my soul in the eyes of an immortal. You have a way of keeping a girl from getting too bored," she chuckled.

Alistair laughed and bent his head to kiss her, long and lingering. "So, Elissa Theirin," he murmured a moment later, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What do you want to do now?"

She laughed. "I think I'd like to try a quiet life spent with you for a while. If that's okay."

He reached for her hand while they made their way back up to the castle. Alistair pulled his wife closer and wrapped his arm around her to shield her from the wind, and with a contented sigh she draped an arm around him, her head rested on his shoulder while she watched Daniel and Sam race ahead of them.

All was right with the world.

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.

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**~ The End**


End file.
